Endymion: A Poetic Romance (Google eBook)

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Taylor and Hessey, 1818 - 207 pages
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Page 173 - I sure must be, To lose in grieving all my maiden prime. 'Come then, Sorrow, Sweetest Sorrow! Like an own babe I nurse thee on my breast: I thought to leave thee, And deceive thee, But now of all the world I love thee best. 'There is not one, No, no, not one But thee to comfort a poor lonely maid; Thou art her mother, And her brother, Her playmate, and her wooer in the shade.
Page 170 - Bacchus, young Bacchus! good or ill betide, We dance before him thorough kingdoms wide: Come hither, lady fair, and joined be To our wild minstrelsy!" Whence came ye, jolly Satyrs! whence came ye! So many, and so many, and such glee? Why have ye left your forest haunts, why left Your nuts in oak-tree cleft?
Page 40 - Into a sort of oneness, and our state Is like a floating spirit's. But there are Richer entanglements, enthralments far More self-destroying, leading by degrees, To the chief intensity: the crown of these Is made of love and friendship, and sits high Upon the forehead of humanity.
Page 167 - And thought to leave her far away behind; But cheerly, cheerly, She loves me dearly; She is so constant to me, and so kind: I would deceive her, And so leave her, But ah! she is so constant and so kind.
Page 169 - And as I sat, over the light blue hills There came a noise of revellers : the rills Into the wide stream came of purple hue 'Twas Bacchus and his crew ! The earnest trumpet spake, and silver thrills From kissing cymbals made a merry din 'Twas Bacchus and his kin ! Like to a moving vintage down they came, Crown'd with green leaves, and faces all on flame ; All madly dancing through the pleasant valley. To scare thee, Melancholy...
Page 6 - Many and many a verse I hope to write, Before the daisies, vermeil rimmed and white, Hide in deep herbage ; and ere yet the bees Hum about globes of clover and sweet peas, I must be near the middle of my story. O may no wintry season, bare and hoary, See it half finished : but let Autumn bold, With universal tinge of sober gold, Be all about me when I make an end.
Page 5 - I'll smoothly steer My little boat, for many quiet hours, With streams that deepen freshly into bowers. Many and many a verse I hope to write, Before the daisies, vermeil rimm'd and white, 50 Hide in deep herbage ; and ere yet the bees Hum about globes of clover and sweet peas, I must be near the middle of my story.
Page 190 - Of mortals each to each, against the blooms Of flowers, rush of rivers, and the tombs Of heroes gone ! Against his proper glory Has my own soul conspired : so my story Will I to children utter, and repent.
Page 170 - We follow Bacchus! Bacchus on the wing, A conquering! Bacchus, young Bacchus! good or ill betide, We dance before him thorough kingdoms wide: Come hither, lady fair, and joined be To our wild minstrelsy!

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