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Страница 179 - fit audience let me find, though few ! " So prayed, more gaining than he asked, the Bard In holiest mood. Urania, I shall need Thy guidance, or a greater Muse, if such Descend to earth or dwell in highest heaven ! For I must tread on shadowy ground, must sink Deep, and, aloft ascending, breathe in worlds To which the heaven of heavens is but a veil. All strength, all terror, single or in bands, That ever was put forth in personal form — Jehovah, with his thunder, and the choir Of shouting Angels,...
Страница 141 - From that bleak tenement He, many an evening, to his distant home In solitude returning, saw the hills Grow larger in the darkness ; all alone Beheld the stars come out above his head, And travelled through the wood, with no one near To whom he might confess the things he saw.
Страница 220 - Her feet beneath her petticoat Like little mice stole in and out, As if they feared the light: But, oh ! she dances such a way— No sun upon an Easter day Is half so fine a sight.
Страница 234 - Though Nature could not touch his heart By lovely forms and silent weather, And tender sounds, yet you might see At once, that Peter Bell and she Had often been together. A savage wildness round him hung As of a dweller out of doors ; In his whole figure and his mien A savage character was seen, Of mountains and of dreary moors.
Страница 141 - He had perceived the presence and the power Of greatness ; and deep feelings had impressed Great objects on his mind, with portraiture And colour so distinct, that on his mind They lay like substances, and almost seemed To haunt the bodily sense.
Страница 179 - All strength — all terror, single or in bands, That ever was put forth in personal form — Jehovah — with His thunder, and the choir Of shouting Angels, and the empyreal thrones — I pass them unalarmed. Not Chaos, not The darkest pit of lowest Erebus, Nor aught of blinder vacancy, scooped out By help of dreams — can breed such fear and awe As fall upon us often when we look Into our Minds, into the Mind of Man — My haunt, and the main region of my song.
Страница 139 - His face and hands are still as brown as if he had lived entirely sub dio. His very hair has a coarse stringiness about it, which proves beyond dispute its utter ignorance of all the arts of the friseur ; and hangs in playful whips and cords about his ears, in a style of the most perfect innocence imaginable.
Страница 135 - I AM a son of Mars, Who have been in many wars, And show my cuts and scars Wherever I come ; This here was for a wench, And that other in a trench, When welcoming the French At the sound of the drum.
Страница 141 - He had small need of books ; for many a tale Traditionary, round the mountains hung, And many a legend, peopling the dark woods, Nourished Imagination in her growth, And gave the Mind that apprehensive power By which she is made quick to recognise The moral properties and scope of things.