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animal arms baneful band beauty beneath bless bosom breath bright Cadmus calm character clouds cold dark dead death deep delight dread Dryden Duellist earth eternity Eurystheus exis eyes faith fall fantastick father fear feel Fingal flowers friends gaze George Somers grave hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven Herculaneum hills honour hope hour human irreligion labour LESSON light live look mind moon morning mortal Moss-side mother mountain mournful Mozambic Mozart mummies nature never night o'er objects Old Mortality Ossian passed peace pleasure Pompey's Pillar poor Pythias religion rocks round scene seemed Shakspeare silent sleep smile sorrow soul sound spirit stood stream sublime sweet tears tence tender terrour thee thing thought tion trees truth virtue voice Wallace's Cave wandering waves wild William Penn winds wisdom youth
Página 447 - When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept. Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ; And Brutus is an honourable man. You all did see, that, on the Lupercal, I thrice presented him a kingly crown, Which he did thrice refuse.
Página 26 - The sober herd that low'd to meet their young ; The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, The playful children just let loose from school ; The watch-dog's voice, that bay'd the whispering wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind ; These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.
Página 433 - Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand ? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight ? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going ; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o...
Página 447 - tis his will : Let but the commons hear this testament, (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read) And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, Unto their issue.
Página 282 - The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake And monarchs tremble in their capitals, — The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war, — These are thy toys, and as the snowy flake. They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.
Página 444 - tis true, this god did shake ; His coward lips did from their colour fly, And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world Did lose his lustre : I did hear him groan : Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans Mark him and write his speeches in their books, Alas, it cried, 'Give me some drink, Titinius,
Página 254 - Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there ! And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep — the dead reign there alone.
Página 446 - Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears : I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them, The good is oft interred with their bones ; So let it be with Ca-sar.
Página 25 - All sadness but despair : now gentle gales, Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmy spoils. As when to them who sail Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past Mozambic, off at sea north-east winds blow Sabean odours from the spicy shore Of Araby the Blest ; with such delay Well pleased they slack their course, and many a league Cheer'd with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles...