the music of nature

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Страница 447 - Fountain heads and pathless groves, Places which pale passion loves ! Moonlight walks, when all the fowls Are warmly housed save bats and owls ! A midnight bell, a parting groan, These are the sounds we feed upon ; Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley : Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.
Страница 477 - Lives through all life, extends through all extent; Spreads undivided, operates unspent! Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart...
Страница 297 - And the birds in the adjoining grove seemed to have a friendly contention with an echo, whose dead voice seemed to live in a hollow tree, near to the brow of that primrose hill.
Страница 51 - I KNEW, by the smoke that so gracefully curled Above the green elms, that a cottage was near, And I said, " If there's peace to be found in the world, A heart that was humble might hope for it here...
Страница 260 - Those joyous hours are past away ; And many a heart, that then was gay, Within the tomb now darkly dwells, And hears no more those evening bells. And so 'twill be when I am gone ; That tuneful peal will still ring on, While other bards shall walk these dells, And sing your praise, sweet...
Страница 267 - Oft, on a plat of rising ground I hear the far-off curfew sound Over some wide-water'd shore, Swinging slow with sullen roar; Or, if the air will not permit, Some still removed place will fit, Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom...
Страница 126 - The first note he sang was taken with such delicacy, swelled by minute degrees to such an amazing volume, and afterward diminished in the same manner to a mere point, that it was applauded for full five minutes. After this he set off with such brilliancy and rapidity of execution, that it was difficult for the violins of those days to keep pace with him.
Страница 222 - Less Philomel will deign a song In her sweetest saddest plight, Smoothing the rugged brow of Night, While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke Gently o'er the accustomed oak. Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, Most musical, most melancholy!
Страница 316 - But that which did please me beyond any thing in the whole world, was the wind-musique when the angel comes down ; which is so sweet that it ravished me, and indeed, in a word, did wrap up my soul so that it made me really sick, just as I have formerly been when in love with my wife ; that...
Страница 179 - But will GOD indeed dwell on the earth ? Behold the heaven and heaven of heavens cannot contain Thee ; how much less the house that I have builded.

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