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Page 220 - They are all gone into the world of light! And I alone sit lingering here ; Their very memory is fair and bright, And my sad thoughts doth clear; It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast, Like stars upon some gloomy grove, Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest After the sun's remove.
Page 72 - Where fairer Tempes bloom, there sleep Young Cyclads on a sunnier deep. A loftier Argo cleaves the main, Fraught with a later prize ; Another Orpheus sings again, And loves, and weeps, and dies. A new Ulysses leaves once more Calypso for his native shore.
Page 72 - The world's great age begins anew, The golden years return, The earth doth like a snake renew Her winter weeds outworn: Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam Like wrecks of a dissolving dream.
Page 221 - Dear, beauteous Death ! the jewel of the Just, Shining nowhere, but in the dark; What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, Could man outlook that mark...
Page 221 - He that hath found some fledged bird's nest may know At first sight if the bird be flown ; But what fair well or grove he sings in now, That is to him unknown. And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams Call to the soul when man doth sleep, So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, And into glory peep.
Page 97 - And tolls its perfume on the passing air, Makes sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth A call to prayer. Not to the domes where crumbling arch and column Attest the feebleness of mortal hand, But to that fane, most catholic and solemn, Which God hath planned ; To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder, Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply ; Its choir the winds and waves — its organ thunder — Its dome the sky.
Page 73 - Oh, cease ! must hate and death return ? Cease! must men kill and die? Cease! drain not to its dregs the urn Of bitter prophecy. The world is weary of the past, Oh, might it die or rest at last ! NOTES 'The quenchless ashes of Milan
Page 72 - Saturn and Love their long repose Shall burst, more bright and good Than all who fell, than one who rose, Than many unsubdued : Not gold, not blood, their altar dowers, But votive tears and symbol flowers.
Page 209 - I dare not guess ; but in this life Of error, ignorance, and strife, Where nothing is, but all things seem, And we the shadows of the dream...
Page 72 - Nor mix with Laian rage the joy Which dawns upon the free, Although a subtler sphinx renew Riddles of death Thebes never knew. Another Athens shall arise, And to remoter time Bequeath, like sunset to the skies, The splendour of its prime; And leave, if nought so bright may live, All earth can take or heaven can give.