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Страница 98 - A dungeon horrible on all sides round, As one great furnace flamed ; yet from those flames No light ; but rather darkness visible, Served only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell ; hope never comes, That comes to all ; but torture without end Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.
Страница 103 - He scarce had ceased, when the superior fiend Was moving toward the shore: his ponderous shield, Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, Behind him cast; the broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views, At evening, from the top of Fesole, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe.
Страница 109 - Their number last he sums. And now his heart Distends with pride, and hardening in his strength Glories...
Страница 109 - Of depth immeasurable ; anon they move In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood Of flutes and soft recorders ; such as raised To height of noblest temper heroes old Arming to battle ; and instead of rage Deliberate valour breathed, firm and unmoved With dread of death to flight or foul retreat ; Nor wanting power to mitigate and suage With solemn touches troubled thoughts, and chase Anguish, and doubt, and fear, and sorrow, and pain From mortal or immortal minds.
Страница 53 - And nothing can we call our own but death ; And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
Страница 113 - The ascending pile Stood fixed her stately height, and straight the doors, Opening their brazen folds, discover, wide Within, her ample spaces o'er the smooth And level pavement ; from the arched roof, Pendent by subtle magic, many a row Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed With naphtha and asphaltus, yielded light As from a sky.
Страница 102 - Hail horrors, hail Infernal world, and thou profoundest Hell Receive thy new possessor; one who brings A mind not to be changed by place or time. The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.
Страница 98 - Reserved him to more wrath; for now the thought Both of lost happiness and lasting pain Torments him; round he throws his baleful eyes, That witnessed huge affliction and dismay, Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate. At once, as far as Angels...