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Page 311 - Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? — God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!
Page 245 - Their dread commander ; he, above the rest In shape and gesture proudly eminent, Stood like a tower ; his form had yet not lost All her original brightness, nor appeared Less than archangel ruined, and the excess Of glory obscured...
Page 311 - Rise, O ever rise, Rise like a cloud of Incense, from the Earth ! Thou kingly Spirit throned among the hills, Thou dread Ambassador from Earth to Heaven, Great Hierarch ! tell thou the silent Sky, And tell the Stars, and tell yon rising Sun, Earth, with her thousand voices, praises GOD.
Page 356 - Destinies, Splendors, and Glooms, and glimmering Incarnations Of hopes and fears, and twilight Phantasies; And Sorrow, with her family of Sighs, And Pleasure, blind with tears, led by the gleam Of her own dying smile instead of eyes, Came in slow pomp— the moving pomp might seem Like pageantry of mist on an autumnal stream.
Page 259 - When the lamp is shattered The light in the dust lies dead — When the cloud is scattered The rainbow's glory is shed. When the lute is broken, Sweet tones are remembered not; When the lips have spoken, Loved accents are soon forgot.
Page 309 - Tis the merry Nightingale That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates With fast thick warble his delicious notes, As he were fearful that an April night Would be too short for him to utter forth His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul Of all its music...
Page 357 - ... where the very grass is all a-rustle with lovely spirit-things, and a weeping mist of music fills the air. The final scenes especially are such a Bacchic reel and rout and revelry of beauty as leaves one staggered and giddy ; poetry is spilt like wine, music runs to drunken waste. The choruses sweep down the wind, tirelessly, flight after flight, till the breathless soul almost cries for respite from the unrolling splendours.
Page 243 - The principal actors are man in his greatest perfection, and woman in her highest beauty. Their enemies are the fallen angels ; the Messiah their friend, and the Almighty their protector. In short...
Page 358 - Its stony jaws, the abrupt mountain breaks, And seems, with its accumulated crags, To overhang the world ; for wide expand Beneath the wan stars and descending moon Islanded seas, blue mountains, mighty streams, Dim tracks and vast, robed in the lustrous gloom Of leaden-coloured even, and fiery hills Mingling their flames with twilight, on the verge Of the remote horizon.