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419. oldal - Where Angels tremble while they gaze, He saw ; but blasted with excess of light, Closed his eyes in endless night. Behold where Dryden's less presumptuous car Wide o'er the fields of Glory bear Two coursers of ethereal race, . With necks in thunder clothed, and long-resounding pace.
547. oldal - It is our will Which thus enchains us to permitted ill — We might be otherwise — we might be all We dream of, happy, high, majestical. Where is the love, beauty, and truth we seek But in our mind? and if we were not weak Should we be less in deed than in desire?
90. oldal - The canonization For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love, Or chide my palsy or my gout, My five grey hairs, or ruined fortune flout. With wealth your state, your mind with arts improve, Take you a course, get you a place...
419. oldal - Labour, and Penury, the racks of Pain, Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train, And Death, sad refuge from the storms of fate ! The fond complaint, my song, disprove, And justify the laws of Jove. Say, has he given in vain the heavenly Muse ? Night and all her sickly dews, Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry, He gives to range the dreary sky; Till down the eastern cliffs afar Hyperion's march they spy, and glittering shafts of war.
419. oldal - This pencil take (she said), whose colours clear Richly paint the vernal year : Thine too these golden keys, immortal Boy ! This can unlock the gates of joy ; Of horror that...
405. oldal - Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth, And Melancholy marked him for her own.
548. oldal - Such as from earth's embrace the salt ooze breeds, Is this ; an uninhabited sea-side, Which the lone fisher, when his nets are dried, Abandons ; and no other object breaks The waste, but one dwarf tree and some few stakes...
572. oldal - Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
419. oldal - He passed the flaming bounds of place and time : The living throne, the sapphire blaze, Where angels tremble while they gaze, He saw ; but, blasted with excess of light, Closed his eyes in endless night.