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Page 305 - The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword; The expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion and the mould of form, The observed of all observers, quite, quite down!
Page 241 - 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 10 - Fill'd with the face of heaven, which, from afar, Comes down upon the waters; all its hues, From the rich sunset to the rising star, Their magical variety diffuse: And now they change ; a paler shadow strews Its mantle o'er the mountains; parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues •*> With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, — till — 'tis gone — and all is gray.
Page 51 - Their rein-deer form their riches. These, their tents, Their robes, their beds, and all their homely wealth Supply, their wholesome fare, and cheerful cups Obsequious at their call, the docile tribe Yield to the sled their necks, and whirl them swift O'er hill and dale...
Page 84 - The raven himself is hoarse That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my battlements. Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full Of direst cruelty ! make thick my blood ; Stop up...
Page 238 - Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small, He sees his little lot the lot of all ; Sees no contiguous palace rear its head, To shame the meanness of his humble shed ; No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal, To make him loathe his vegetable meal : But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil, Each wish contracting, fits him to the soil.
Page 231 - God, the father of slaughter, the God that carrieth desolation and fire ; the active and roaring deity, he who giveth victory and reviveth courage in the conflict; who names those that are to be slain*.
Page 245 - The door is not quite four feet in height, and the room may be about eight feet in length by six in breadth. At the inner end is the poet's bed, and close to the door, over against a small window not exceeding two feet square, ia a table where he commits to paper the effusions of his muse.
Page 241 - All that we feel of it begins and ends In the small circle of our foes or friends; To all beside as much an empty shade, An Eugene living as a Caesar dead; Alike or when or where, they shone or shine, . Or on the Rubicon or on the Rhine.