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Act ii Anatomy of Melancholy angels beauty Book Book ii breath bright called Canto Canto iii comes dark dead dear Death deep devil dream earth Epistle eyes fair fall fear feel fools give grave grow hand happy hath hear heart Heaven hill hope hour human Ibid JOHN king leave Letter light Line live look Lord lost man's mind Moral morning Nature ne'er never Night o'er once passed pleasure poor reason round sleep smile soft Song Sonnet sorrow soul sound spirit stand Stanza stars sweet tears thee There's things THOMAS thou thought thousand true truth turn virtue voice walks wind wise wish woman young
46. oldal - With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound : last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ; Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
91. oldal - gainst that season comes Wherein our saviour's birth is celebrated, This 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.
135. oldal - Satan except, none higher sat, with grave Aspect he rose, and in his rising seemed A pillar of state : deep on his front engraven Deliberation sat and public care ; And princely counsel in his face yet shone, Majestic though in ruin : sage he stood, With Atlantean shoulders fit to bear The weight of mightiest monarchies ; his look Drew audience and attention still as night Or summer's noontide air...
220. oldal - How small, of all that human hearts endure, That part which laws or kings can cause or cure...
67. oldal - Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; And,— when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
86. oldal - The times have been That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end ; but now they rise again, With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, And push us from our stools.
25. oldal - So every spirit, as it is most pure, And hath in it the more of heavenly light, So it the fairer body doth procure To habit in, and it more fairly dight, With cheerful grace and amiable sight. For, of the soul, the body form doth take, For soul is form, and doth the body make.
270. oldal - Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies; There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind.
272. oldal - What then I was. 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 thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.— That time is past, And all its aching joys are now no more, And all its dizzy raptures.
369. oldal - When my eyes shall be turned to behold for the last time the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments of a once glorious Union; on States dissevered, discordant, belligerent; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood!