The cabinet; or The selected beauties of literature [ed. by J. Aitken]. (Google eBook)

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1824
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Page 72 - The mountains look on Marathon And Marathon looks on the sea ; And musing there an hour alone, I dreamed that Greece might still be free ; For standing on the Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave. A king sate on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis ; And ships, by thousands, lay below, And men in nations all were his ! He counted them at break of day And when the sun set, where were they?
Page 387 - It ceased ; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Page 414 - Away ! away ! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards : Already with thee ! tender is the night, And haply the queen-moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry fays...
Page 382 - Nor any drop to drink. The very deep did rot; O Christ! That ever this should be! Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs Upon the slimy sea! About, about, in reel and rout, The death-fires danced at night: The water, like a witch's oils, Burnt green, and blue, and white.
Page 386 - The Moon was at its edge. The thick black cloud was cleft, and still The Moon was at its side: Like waters shot" from some high crag, The lightning fell with never a jag, A river steep and wide.
Page 386 - The upper air burst into life, And a hundred fire-flags sheen To and fro they were hurried about ; And to and fro, and in and out The wan stars danced between.
Page 391 - And fell down in a fit; The holy Hermit raised his eyes, And prayed where he did sit. I took the oars: the Pilot's boy, Who now doth crazy go, Laughed loud and long, and all the while His eyes went to and fro. "Ha! ha!" quoth he, "full plain I see, The Devil knows how to row.
Page 414 - Darkling I listen; and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy!
Page 384 - I fear thee, ancient Mariner! I fear thy skinny hand! And thou art long, and lank, and brown, As is the ribbed sea-sand. I fear thee and thy glittering eye, And thy skinny hand so brown.
Page 268 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove : O, no ! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken ; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth "s unknown, although his height be taken.

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