1654 MILTON: _Par. Regained,_ Bk. iv., Line 70.

Our acts our angels are, or good or ill, Our fatal shadows that walk by us still.

1655 JOHN FLETCHER: _Upon an "Honest Man's Fortune."_

=Shaft.=

In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, I shot his fellow of the selfsame flight The selfsame way, with more advised watch, To find the other forth; and by adventuring both I oft found both.

1656 SHAKS.: _M. of Venice,_ Act i., Sc. 1.

That eagle's fate and mine are one, Which on the shaft that made him die Espied a feather of his own, Wherewith he wont to soar so high.

1657 WALLER: _To a Lady Singing a Song of his Composing._

=Shakespeare.=

Soul of the age!

Th' applause! delight! the wonder of our stage!

My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further, to make thee room; Thou art a monument, without a tomb, And art alive still, while thy book doth live, And we have wits to read, and praise to give.

1658 BEN JONSON: _Underwoods, To the Mem. of Shakespeare._

There, Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb The crowns o' the world. Oh, eyes sublime, With tears and laughters for all time!

1659 MRS. BROWNING: _Vision of Poets,_ St. 101.

Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild.

1660 MILTON: _L'Allegro,_ Line 129.

What needs my Shakespeare for his honor'd bones,-- The labor of an age in piled stones?

Or that his hallow'd relics should be hid Under a star-y-pointing pyramid?

Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name?

1661 MILTON: _On Shakespeare._

=Shame.=

O, shame! where is thy blush?

1662 SHAKS.: _Hamlet,_ Act iii., Sc. 4.

But 'neath yon crimson tree Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame, Nor mark, within its roseate canopy, Her blush of maiden shame.

1663 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT: _Autumn Woods._

=Shape.=

Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble.

1664 SHAKS.: _Macbeth,_ Act iii., Sc. 4.

The other shape, If shape it might be call'd that shape had none Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb.

1665 MILTON: _Par. Lost,_ Bk. ii., Line 681.

=Shell.=

I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell, To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely.

1666 WORDSWORTH: _The Excursion,_ Bk. iv.

=Shelley.=

Ah, did you once see Shelley plain, And did he stop and speak to you, And did you speak to him again?

How strange it seems, and new!

1667 ROBERT BROWNING: _Memorabilia,_ i.

=Sheridan.=

Long shall we seek his likeness--long in vain, And turn to all of him which may remain, Sighing that nature form'd but one such man, And broke the die--in moulding Sheridan.

1668 BYRON: _Monody on the Death of Sheridan._

=Shield.=

When Prussia hurried to the field, And snatch'd the spear, but left the shield.

1669 SCOTT: _Marmion,_ Introduction to Canto iii.

=Ships.=

Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships, And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?

1670 MARLOWE: _Faustus._

Like sister sails that drift at night Together on the deep, Seen only where they cross the light That pathless waves must pathlike keep From fisher's signal fire, or pharos steep.

1671 RUSKIN: _The Broken Chain,_ Pt. v., St. 25.

She walks the waters like a thing of life, And seems to dare the elements to strife.

1672 BYRON: _Corsair,_ Canto i., St. 3.

As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.

1673 COLERIDGE: _The Ancient Mariner,_ Pt. ii.

=Shipwreck.=

O, I have suffer'd With those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel, Who had no doubt some noble creature in her, Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock Against my very heart! poor souls! they perish'd.

1674 SHAKS.: _Tempest,_ Act i., Sc. 2.

Again she plunges! hark! a second shock Bilges the splitting Vessel on the Rock-- Down on the vale of death, with dismal cries The fated victims shuddering cast their eyes, In wild despair; while yet another stroke, With strong convulsion rends the solid oak: Ah Heaven!--behold her crashing ribs divide!

She loosens, parts, and spreads in ruin o'er the Tide.

1675 FALCONER: _Shipwreck,_ Canto iii., Line 642.