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Página 115 - And mine shall Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions, and shall not myself, One of their kind, that relish all as sharply, Passion as they, be kindlier...
Página 291 - O'er untravell'd seas to roam, Yet lives the blood of England in our veins ! And shall we not proclaim That blood of honest fame Which no tyranny can tame By its chains...
Página 170 - It is a hard matter for a man to lie all over Nature having provided king's evidence in almost every member. The hand will sometimes act as a vane, to show which way the wind blows, when every feature is set the other way ; the knees smite together and sound the alarm of fear under a fierce countenance ; the legs shake with anger, when all above is calm.* 18.
Página 204 - Or heard from branch of flowering thorn The song of friendly cuckoo warn The tardy-moving swain ; Hast bid the purple swallow hail ; And seen him now through ether sail, Now sweeping downward o'er the vale, And skimming now the plain ; " Then, catching with a sudden glance The bright and silver-clear expanse Of some broad river's stream, Beheld the boats adown it glide, • And motion wind again the tide, Where, chain'd in ice by winter's pride, Late roll'd the heavy team...
Página 260 - Now reaching his palette, with masterly care Each tint on its surface he spread; The blue of her eyes, and the brown of her hair, And the pearl and the white of her forehead so fair, And her lips' and her cheeks
Página 173 - Fame does not depend on the will of any man, but Reputation may be given or taken away. Fame is the sympathy of kindred intellects, and sympathy is not a subject of willing, while Reputation, having its source in the popular voice, is a sentence which may either be uttered or suppressed at pleasure. Reputation, being essentially contemporaneous, is always at the mercy of the envious and the ignorant; but Fame, whose very birth...
Página 258 - Black and white, red and yellow, and blue. On the skull of a Titan, that Heaven defied, Sat the fiend, like the grim giant Gog, While aloft to his mouth a huge pipe he applied, Twice as big as the Eddystone lighthouse, descried As it looms through an easterly fog.
Página 273 - How vast, how dread, o'erwhelming, is the thought Of space interminable! to the soul A circling weight that crushes into naught Her mighty faculties! a wondrous whole, Without or parts, beginning, or an end! How fearful, then, on desperate wings to send The fancy e'en amid the waste profound!
Página 262 - I am lost," said the fiend, and he shook like a leaf; When, casting his eyes to the ground, He saw the lost pupils of Ellen with grief In the jaws of a mouse, and the sly little thief Whisk away from his sight with a bound. "I am lost...
Página 255 - Like a sailor she seem'd on a desolate shore, With nor house, nor a tree, nor a sound but the roar Of breakers high dashing around. From object to object still, still would she veer, Though nothing, alas, could she find; Like the moon, without atmosphere, brilliant and clear, Yet doom'd, like the moon, with no being to cheer The bright barren waste of her mind.

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