Quarterly Review, Volumen110

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John Murray, 1861
 

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Página 467 - The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them...
Página 468 - So many mermaids, tended her i' the eyes, And made their bends adornings': at the helm A seeming mermaid steers ; the silken tackle Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands, That yarely frame the office. From the barge A strange invisible perfume hits the sense Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast Her people out upon her ; and Antony, Enthron'd in the market-place, did sit alone, Whistling to the air ; which, but for vacancy, Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too, And made a gap in nature.
Página 327 - He is made one with Nature. There is heard His voice in all her music, from the moan Of thunder to the song of night's sweet bird. He is a presence to be felt and known In darkness and in light, from herb and stone ; Spreading itself where'er that Power may move Which has withdrawn his being to its own, Which wields the world with never-wearied love, Sustains it from beneath, and kindles it above.
Página 447 - Although thy breath be rude. Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly Then, heigh, ho, the holly ! This life is most jolly.
Página 461 - And if I give thee honour due, Mirth, admit me of thy crew, To live with her and live with thee, In unreproved pleasures free...
Página 328 - The One remains, the many change and pass ; Heaven's light for ever shines, Earth's shadows fly ; Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass, Stains the white radiance of Eternity, Until Death tramples it to fragments.
Página 456 - How happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will, Whose armour is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill!
Página 296 - For now the Poet cannot die, Nor leave his music as of old, But round him ere he scarce be cold Begins the scandal and the cry : 'Proclaim the faults he would not show : Break lock and seal: betray the trust: Keep nothing sacred : 'tis but just The many-headed beast should know.
Página 441 - The turtle to her make hath told her tale. Summer is come, for every spray now springs : The hart hath hung his old head on the pale ; The buck in brake his winter coat he flings ; The fishes flete with new repaired scale.
Página 542 - It is the land that freemen till, That sober-suited Freedom chose, The land, where girt with friends or foes A man may speak the thing he will ; A land of settled government, A land of just and old renown, Where Freedom broadens slowly down From precedent to precedent...

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