Colloquies, desultory and diverse, but chiefly upon poetry and poets. [by C.L. Lordan].

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Press of J. Lordan, 1843 - 200 páginas
 

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Página 151 - tis too horrible ! The weariest and most loathed worldly life, ^ That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a paradise To what we fear of death.
Página 149 - tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them ? To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil...
Página 151 - Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod...
Página 168 - These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty, thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Página 91 - More sweet than odours caught by him who sails Near spicy shores of Araby the blest, A thousand times more exquisitely sweet, The freight of holy feeling which we meet, In thoughtful moments, wafted by the gales From fields where good men walk, or bowers wherein they rest.
Página 160 - Though thy clime Be fickle, and thy year, most part deform'd With dripping rains, or wither'd by a frost, I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies And fields without a flower, for warmer France With all her vines ; nor for Ausonia's groves Of golden fruitage and her myrtle bowers.
Página 155 - Why should we thus, with an untoward mind, And in the weakness of humanity, From natural wisdom turn our hearts away ; To natural comfort shut our eyes and ears ; And, feeding on disquiet, thus disturb The calm of nature with our restless thoughts...
Página 91 - twere anew, the gaps of centuries ; Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not, till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old ! — The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns.
Página 127 - We rest — a dream has power to poison sleep ; We rise — one wandering thought pollutes the day; We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep ; Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away : It is the same ! — for, be it joy or sorrow, The path of its departure still is free ; Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow ; Nought may endure but Mutability.
Página 92 - And surely never did there live on earth A man of kindlier nature. The rough sports And teasing ways of children vexed not him ; Indulgent listener was he to the tongue Of garrulous age ; nor did the sick man's tale, To his fraternal sympathy addressed, Obtain reluctant hearing.

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