The triumph of old age, an elegiac poem

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Стр. 166 - The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And , as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shape , and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name.
Стр. 163 - Of old hast THOU laid the foundation of the earth : And the heavens are the work of thy hands. They shall perish, but THOU shalt endure : Yea, all of them shall wax old like a garment ; As a vesture shalt THOU change them, and they shall be changed : But THOU art the same, And thy years shall have no end.
Стр. 175 - Shame that skulks behind; Or pining Love shall waste their youth, Or Jealousy with rankling tooth That inly gnaws the secret heart, And Envy wan, and faded Care, Grim-visaged comfortless Despair, And Sorrow's piercing dart.
Стр. 161 - Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts; shut not thy merciful ears to our prayer; but spare us, Lord most holy, O God most mighty, O holy and merciful Saviour, thou most worthy Judge eternal, suffer us not, at our last hour, for any pains of death, to fall from thee.
Стр. i - Seco sorride , e sol di te sospira ; E sua fama che spira In molte parti ancor per la tua lingua , Prega che non estingua ; Anzi la voce al suo nome rischiari , Se gli occhi suoi ti fur dolci né cari.
Стр. 175 - O' Potestade , disse, sublimada ! Que ameaço divino . ou que segredo Este clima , e este mar nos apresenta , Que mor cousa parece, que tormenta ? Não acabava , quando huma figura Se nos mostra no ar, robusta e valida , De disforme e grandissima estatura , O rosto carregado , a barba esqualida , Os olhos encovados , ea postura Medonha e má , ea cor terrena e pallida , Cheios de terra , e crespos os cabellos , A boca negra, os dentes amarellos.
Стр. 167 - Tennemi Amor anni ventuno ardendo Lieto nel foco, e nel duol pien di speme; Poi che Madonna e '1 mio cor seco insieme Saliro al ciel , dieci altri anni piangendo.
Стр. 164 - A guisa d' un soave e chiaro lume, Cui nutrimento a poco a poco manca; Tenendo al fin il suo usato costume; Pallida no, ma più che neve bianca Che senza vento in un bel colle fiocchi; Parea posar come persona stanca. Quasi un dolce dormir ne' suoi begli occhi, Sendo lo spirto già da lei diviso, Era quel che morir chiaman gli sciocchi.
Стр. 176 - Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God of His great mercy to take unto Himself the soul of our dear brother here departed, we therefore commit his body to the ground .... in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life...
Стр. 171 - I have begun, unless I be removed into some quiet parsonage, where I may see God's blessings spring out of my mother earth, and eat my own bread in peace and privacy...

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