The Works of the English Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, Band 52,Seite 3

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Seite 4 - What is the world itself? thy world — a grave. Where is the dust that has not been alive ? The spade, the plough, disturb our ancestors. From human mould we reap our daily bread. The globe around earth's hollow surface shakes, And is the ceiling of her sleeping sons. O'er devastation we blind revels keep : Whole buried towns support the dancer's heel.
Seite 50 - Such various forms, and gave it wings to fly ? Has matter innate motion ! Then each atom, Asserting its indisputable right To dance, would form an universe of dust.
Seite 37 - How glorious, then, appears the mind of man, When in it all the stars, and planets, roll ! And what it seems, it is : great objects make Great minds, enlarging as their views enlarge ; Those still more godlike, as these more divine. And more divine than these, thou canst not see.
Seite 8 - Vain hope ! it is too late! Where, where, for shelter, shall the guilty fly, When consternation turns the good man pale ? Great day ! for which all other days were made ; For which earth rose from chaos, man from earth ; And an eternity, the date of gods, Descended on poor earth-created man ! Great day of dread, decision, and despair!
Seite 44 - What hand behind the scene, What arm Almighty, put these wheeling globes In motion, and wound up the vast machine?
Seite 191 - To show (in vain !) he still retains his wits : Another marries, and his dear proves keen ; He writes as an hypnotic for the...
Seite 90 - Twixt human and divine. But though full noble is my theme. Full urgent is my call To soften sorrow, and forbid The bursting tear to fall : The task I dread ; dare I to leave Of...
Seite 190 - With fame, in just proportion, envy grows ; The man that makes a character, makes foes : Slight, peevish insects round a genius rise, As a bright day awakes the world of flies ; With hearty malice, but with feeble wing, (To show they live) they flutter, and they sting : But as by depredations wasps proclaim The fairest fruit, so these the fairest fame.
Seite 26 - Streams to a point, and centres in my sight ! Nor tarries there ; I feel it at my heart. My heart, at once, it humbles, and exalts; Lays it in dust, and calls it to the skies.
Seite 1 - Then cheers his heart with what his fate affords, And chants his sonnet to deceive the time, Till the due season calls him to repose : Thus I...

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