Charm ache with air, and agony with words.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1.

Fireside happiness, to hours of ease

Blest with that charm, the certainty to please.

Samuel Rogers (1763-1855): Human Life.

When lovely woman stoops to folly,

And finds too late that men betray,

What charm can soothe her melancholy?

What art can wash her guilt away?

Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1774): The Hermit. On Woman. Chap. xxiv.

'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,

Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;

A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there,

Which sought through the world is ne'er met with elsewhere.

An exile from home splendour dazzles in vain,

Oh give me my lowly thatched cottage again;

The birds singing gayly, that came at my call,

Give me them, and that peace of mind dearer than all.

J Howard Payne (1792-1852): Home, Sweet Home. (From the opera of "Clari, the Maid of Milan.")

Go! you may call it madness, folly;

You shall not chase my gloom away!

There's such a charm in melancholy

I would not if I could be gay.

Samuel Rogers (1763-1855): To ——.

Perhaps 't is pretty to force together

Thoughts so all unlike each other;

To mutter and mock a broken charm,

To dally with wrong that does no harm.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834): Christabel. Conclusion to Part ii.

And there's a lust in man no charm can tame

Of loudly publishing our neighbour's shame;

On eagles' wings immortal scandals fly,

While virtuous actions are but born and die.

Stephen Harvey (circa 1627): Juvenal, Satire ix.

Each lonely scene shall thee restore;

For thee the tear be duly shed,

Belov'd till life can charm no more,

And mourn'd till Pity's self be dead.

William Collins (1720-1756): Dirge in Cymbeline.

The sounding cataract

Haunted me like a passion; the tall rock,

The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,

Their colours and their forms, were then to me

An appetite,—a feeling and a love,

That had no need of a remoter charm

By thoughts supplied, nor any interest

Unborrowed from the eye.

William Wordsworth (1770-1850): Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey.

It faded on the crowing of the cock.

Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes

Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,

The bird of dawning singeth all night long:

And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad;

The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,

No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,

So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 1.

With thee conversing I forget all time,

All seasons, and their change,—all please alike.

Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,

With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun

When first on this delightful land he spreads

His orient beams on herb, tree, fruit, and flower,

Glist'ring with dew; fragrant the fertile earth

After soft showers; and sweet the coming on

Of grateful ev'ning mild; then silent night

With this her solemn bird and this fair moon,

And these the gems of heaven, her starry train:

But neither breath of morn when she ascends

With charm of earliest birds, nor rising sun

On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower,

Glist'ring with dew, nor fragrance after showers,

Nor grateful ev'ning mild, nor silent night

With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon

Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 639.

Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower

Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour

Have passed away; less happy than the one

That by the unwilling ploughshare died to prove

The tender charm of poetry and love.

William Wordsworth (1770-1850): Poems composed during a Tour in the Summer of 1833. xxxvii.

To me more dear, congenial to my heart,

One native charm, than all the gloss of art.

Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1774): The Deserted Village. Line 253.

And what is friendship but a name,

A charm that lulls to sleep,

A shade that follows wealth or fame,

And leaves the wretch to weep?

Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1774): The Hermit. Chap. viii. Stanza 19.

I 'll charm the air to give a sound,

While you perform your antic round.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Macbeth. Act iv. Sc. 1.

Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star

In his steep course?

Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834): Hymn in the Vale of Chamouni.