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17. oldal - You then whose judgment the right course would steer, Know well each Ancient's proper character: His fable, subject, scope in every page; Religion, country, genius of his age: Without all these at once before your eyes, Cavil you may, but never criticise.
21. oldal - Let Fate do her worst ; there are relics of joy, Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy ; Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care, And bring back the features that joy used to wear. Long, long be my heart with such memories filled ! Like the vase, in which roses have once been distilled — You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will. But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.
26. oldal - The high-born soul Disdains to rest her heaven-aspiring wing Beneath its native quarry. Tired of earth And this diurnal scene, she springs aloft Through fields of air; pursues the flying storm; Rides on the vollied lightning through the heavens ; Or, yoked with whirlwinds and the northern blast, Sweeps the long tract of day.
26. oldal - She darts her swiftness up the long career Of devious comets ; through its burning signs Exulting measures the perennial wheel Of nature, and looks back on all the stars, Whose blended light, as with a milky zone, Invests the orient.
26. oldal - Of mortal man, the sovereign Maker said, That not in humble nor in brief delight, Not in the fading echoes of renown, Power's purple robes, nor pleasure's flowery lap, The...
12. oldal - Yes, my good lord, I see you do not forget them ; I see their sacred forms passing in sad review before your memory; I see your pained and softened fancy recalling those happy meetings, where the innocent enjoyment of social mirth became expanded into the nobler warmth of social virtue, and the horizon of the board became enlarged into the horizon of man...
26. oldal - She meditates the eternal depth below ; Till, half recoiling, down the headlong steep She plunges; soon o'erwhelmed and swallowed up In that immense of being. There her hopes Rest at the fated goal.
26. oldal - Through fields of air, pursues the flying storm ; Rides on the vollied lightning through the heavens ; Or yoked with whirlwinds and the northern blast, Sweeps the long tract of day. Then high she soars The blue profound, and hovering round the sun, Beholds him pouring the redundant stream Of light ; beholds his unrelenting sway Bend the reluctant planets to absolve The fated rounds of time.
12. oldal - ... my slenderer and younger taper imbibed its borrowed light from the more matured and redundant fountain of yours. Yes, my Lord, we can remember those nights...