Knight's Quarterly Magazine, Volume 3

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Knight, 1824 - English fiction
 

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Page 38 - Created hugest that swim the ocean stream : Him, haply, slumbering on the Norway foam, The pilot of some small night-foundered skiff Deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell, With fixed anchor in his scaly rind Moors by his side under the lee, while night Invests the sea, and wished morn delays...
Page 39 - As when to them who sail Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past Mozambic, off at sea north-east winds blow Sabean odours from the spicy shore Of Araby the Blest ; with such delay Well pleased they slack their course, and many a league Cheered with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles...
Page 192 - I see the Deep's untrampled floor With green and purple seaweeds strown ; I see the waves upon the shore, Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown : I sit upon the sands alone, — The lightning of the noontide ocean Is flashing round me, and a tone Arises from its measured motion, How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion. in Alas! I have nor hope nor health, Nor peace within nor calm around...
Page 396 - So let him take no thought for the morrow: "sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.
Page 189 - SWIFT as a spirit hastening to his task Of glory and of good, the sun sprang forth Rejoicing in his splendour, and the mask Of darkness fell from the awakened Earth. The smokeless altars of the mountain snows Flamed above crimson clouds, and at the birth Of light, the Ocean's orison arose, To which the birds tempered their matin lay.
Page 192 - Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.
Page 191 - The breath of the moist earth is light, Around its unexpanded buds ; Like many a voice of one delight, The winds, the birds, the ocean floods, The City's voice itself is soft like Solitude's.
Page 190 - SWIFTLY walk over the western wave, Spirit of Night ! Out of the misty eastern cave, Where all the long and lone daylight, Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear, Which make thee terrible and dear, — Swift be thy flight...
Page 192 - Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure. Others I see whom these surround — Smiling they live, and call life pleasure ; — To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.
Page 189 - But I, whom thoughts which must remain untold Had kept as wakeful as the stars that gem The cone of night...

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