Hyperion: A Romance (Google eBook)

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Ticknor, Reed, and Fields, 1853 - Authors, American - 304 pages
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Page 259 - He that hath found some fledged bird's nest may know, At first sight, if the bird be flown ; But what fair well or grove he sings in now, That is to him unknown. And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams Call to the soul, when man doth sleep ; So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, And into glory peep.
Page 259 - After the sun's remove. I see them walking in an air of glory, Whose light doth trample on my days: My days, which are at best but dull and hoary, Mere glimmering and decays O holy Hope ! and high Humility, High as the heavens above ! These are your walks, and you have showed them me, To kindle my cold love.
Page 259 - Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill My perspective still as they pass ; Or else remove me hence unto that hill, Where I shall need no glass.
Page 109 - Often a proposition of inscrutable and dread aspect, when resolutely grappled with, and torn from its shady den, and its bristling entrenchments of uncouth terminology, and dragged forth into the open light of day, to be seen by the natural eye, and tried by merely human understanding, proves to be a very harmless truth, familiar to us from of old, sometimes so familiar as to be a truism.
Page 258 - They are all gone into the world of light! And I alone sit lingering here ; Their very memory is fair and bright, And my sad thoughts doth clear...
Page 284 - And now the sun was growing high and warm. A little chapel, whose door stood open, seemed to invite Flemming to enter and enjoy the grateful coolness. He went in. There was no one there. The walls were covered with paintings and sculpture of the rudest kind, and with a few funeral tablets. There was nothing there to move the heart to devotion ; but in that hour the heart of Flemming was weak, weak as a child's. He bowed his stubborn knees, and wept. And...
Page 240 - Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar?
Page 143 - ... of the present. Much of the fever and fretfulness of life is over. The world and I look each other more calmly in the face. My mind is more self-possessed. It has done me good to be somewhat parched by the heat and drenched by the rain of life.
Page 63 - ... have laid themselves down in the grave, and slept the sleep of death, and the world talks of them, while they sleep ! It would seem, indeed, as if all their sufferings had but sanctified them ; as if the death-angel, in passing, had touched them with the hem of his garment, and made them holy ; as if the hand of disease had been stretched out over them only to make the sign of the cross upon their souls ! And as in the sun's eclipse we can behold the great stars shining in the heavens, so...
Page 75 - And at night so cloudless and so still! Not a voice of living thing not a whisper of leaf or waving bough not a breath of wind not a sound upon the earth or in the air!

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