The Excursion: A Poem

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C.S. Francis & Company, 1850 - 340 pages

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Page xiii - How exquisitely the individual Mind (And the progressive powers perhaps no less Of the whole species) to the external World Is fitted :— and how exquisitely, too — Theme this but little heard of among men — The external World is fitted to the Mind ; And the creation (by no lower name Can it be called) which they with blended might Accomplish : — this is our high argument.
Page 94 - One adequate support For the calamities of mortal life Exists — one only — an assured belief That the procession of our fate, howe'er Sad or disturbed, is ordered by a Being Of infinite benevolence and power, Whose everlasting purposes embrace All accidents, converting them to good.
Page 27 - Of human passion. Sympathies there are More tranquil, yet perhaps of kindred birth, That steal upon the meditative mind, And grow with thought. Beside yon spring I stood, And eyed its waters till we seemed to feel One sadness, they and I: For them a bond Of brotherhood is broken : time has been When, every day, the touch of human hand Dislodged the natural sleep that binds them up In mortal stillness ; and they ministered To human comfort.
Page 113 - Towards the crescent moon, with grateful heart Called on the lovely wanderer who bestowed That timely light, to share his joyous sport ; And hence, a beaming goddess with her nymphs, Across the lawn and through the darksome grove (Not unaccompanied with tuneful notes By echo multiplied from rock or cave) Swept in the storm of chase, as moon and stars Glance rapidly along the clouded heaven, When winds are blowing strong.
Page xiv - Descend, prophetic spirit ! that inspir'st The human soul of universal earth. Dreaming on things to come ; and dost possess A metropolitan temple in the hearts Of mighty poets ; upon me bestow A gift of genuine insight ; that my song With star-like virtue in its place may shine ; Shedding benignant influence, — and secure, Itself, from all malevolent effect Of those mutations that extend their sway Throughout the nether sphere...
Page 29 - She loved this wretched spot, nor would for worlds Have parted hence; and still that length of road, And this rude bench, one torturing hope endeared, Fast rooted at her heart: and here, my Friend,— In sickness she remained; and here she died ; Last human tenant of these ruined walls...
Page 113 - Has not the soul, the being of your life, Received a shock of awful consciousness, In some calm season, when these lofty rocks At night's approach bring down the unclouded sky To rest upon their circumambient walls ; A temple framing of dimensions vast, And yet not too enormous for the sound Of human anthems,— choral song, or burst Sublime of instrumental harmony.
Page 58 - The appearance, instantaneously disclosed, Was of a mighty city — boldly say A wilderness of building, sinking far And self-withdrawn into a boundless depth, Far sinking into splendour — without end ! Fabric it seemed of diamond and of gold, With alabaster domes, and silver spires, And blazing terrace upon terrace, high Uplifted ; here, serene pavilions bright, In avenues disposed ; there, towers begirt With battlements...
Page 113 - Sunbeams, upon distant hills Gliding apace, with shadows in their train, Might, with small help from fancy, be transformed Into fleet Oreads sporting visibly. The Zephyrs fanning, as they passed, their wings, Lacked not, for love, fair objects whom they wooed With gentle whisper. Withered boughs grotesque, Stripped of their leaves and twigs by hoary age, From depth of shaggy covert peeping forth In the low vale, or on steep mountain side ; And, sometimes, intermixed with stirring horns Of the live...
Page 113 - twas ever meant That we should pry far off, yet be unraised : That we should pore, and dwindle as we pore, Viewing all objects unremittingly In disconnection dead and spiritless ; And still dividing, and dividing still, Break down all grandeur, still unsatisfied With the perverse attempt, while littleness May yet become more little ; waging thus An impious warfare with the very life Of our own souls...

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