What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
ancient appear arms beauty bells born breath bright called charm close cloth clouds dark death deep delight doth earth Edition English expression eyes fair fall fancy Fcap fear feel fire flowers French gilt give glory grace green hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hills hope hour human Illustrations Italy king land Latin leaves light lines living look Lord lost meaning Milton mind morning mountain nature never night o'er once perhaps pleasure poem poet poetry praise pride reference rest rise rocks round says scene seems sense shade sight sleep smile song soul sound speak spirit spring star stream sweet tears thee things thou thought true truth turn voice wave wild winds wings woods
Page 78 - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific — and all his men...
Page 331 - 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. Speak ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, Angels, for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night, Circle his throne rejoicing, ye in heaven, On earth join all ye creatures to extol Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. Fairest of stars, last...
Page 127 - Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated; who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise!
Page 127 - And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips - 'The foe! they come! they come!' And wild and high the 'Cameron's gathering
Page 458 - Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays; Hope " springs exulting on triumphant wing," That thus they all shall meet in future days, There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear; While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.
Page 268 - Love thyself last : cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty ; Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : Let all the ends thou aim'st at, be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's ; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
Page 108 - The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Page 295 - And all their echoes mourn : The willows, and the hazel copses green, Shall now no more be seen, Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. As killing as the canker to the rose, Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze, Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear, When first the white-thorn blows ; Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear.
Page 296 - Neaera's hair ? Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights, and live laborious days : But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears And slits the thin-spun life. But not the praise...
Page 451 - Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one, Have ofttimes no connection. Knowledge dwells In heads replete with thoughts of other men, Wisdom in minds attentive to their own. Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass, The mere materials with which wisdom builds, Till smoothed and squared and fitted to its place, Does but encumber whom it seems to enrich. Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much ; Wisdom is humble that he knows no more.