Christabel.

S. T. COLERIDGE.

BYRON.

ST. PETER'S AT ROME.

A LADY'S CHAMBER. Vastness which grows, but grows to harmonize, The moon shines dim in the open air, All musical in its immensities ;

And not a moonbeam enters here. Rich marbles, richer painting, shrines where But they without its light can see flame

The chamber carved so curiously, The lamps of gold, and haughty domne which Carved with figures strange and sweet, vies

All made out of the carver's brain, In air with earth's chief structures, though For a lady's chamber meet : their frame

The lamp with twofold silver chain Sits on the firm-set ground, - and this the cloud Is fastened to an angel's feet. must claim.

The silver lamp burns dead and dim;

But Christabel the lamp will trim.
Here condense thy soul She trimmed the lamp, and made it bright,
To more immediate objects, and control And left it swinging to and fro,
Thy thoughts until thy mind hath got by heart while Geraldine, in wretched plight,
Its eloquent proportions, and unroll

Sank down upon the floor below.
In mighty graduations, part by part,
The glory which at once upon thee did not dart.
Childe Harold, Cant. iv.

Music.
Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould

Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment ?
THE APOLLO BELVIDERE.

Sure something holy lodges in that breast,
Or view the lord of the unerring bow, And with these raptures moves the vocal air
The god of life, and poesy, and light, To testify his hidden residence.
The sun in human limbs arrayed, and brow How sweetly did they float upon the wings
All radiant from his triumph in the fight ; Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night,
The shaft hath just been shot, - the arrow At every fall smoothing the raven down
bright

Of darkness till it smiled.
With an immortal's vengeance ; in his eye
And nostril beautiful disdain, and might
And majesty, flash their full lightnings by,

PERFECTION,
Developing in that one glance the Deity.

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,

To throw a perfume on the violet, But in his delicate form - a dream of love,

To smooth the ice, or add another hue Shaped by some solitary nymph, whose breast Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light Longed for a deathless lover from above,

To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,
And maddened in that vision — are exprest Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.
All that ideal beauty ever blessed

King John, Act iv. Sc. a.
The mind with in its most unearthly mood,
Whon each conception was a heavenly guest,

ANTHOLOGY.
A ray of immortality, and stood,
Starlike, around, until they gathered to a god !

Infinite riches in a little room.
Childe Harold, Cant. iv.

The Few of Malta, Act i.

Comus.

MILTON.

SHAKESPEARE.

BYRON,

C. MARLOWE.

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