Samuel Rogers and His Circle

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Methuen & Company, Limited, 1910 - 304 pages
 

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Page 160 - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody sun at noon Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the moon. ' Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean. ' Water, water everywhere, And all the boards did shrink; Water, water everywhere, Nor any drop to drink.
Page 196 - WHEN we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss; Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this. The dew of the morning Sunk chill on my brow It felt like the warning Of what I feel now. Thy vows are all broken, And light is thy fame; I hear thy name spoken, And share in its shame. They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear; A shudder comes o'er me Why wert thou so dear ? They know not I knew thee, Who knew thee too...
Page 120 - O eloquent, just, and mighty Death ! whom none could advise, thou hast persuaded ; what none hath dared, thou hast done ; and whom all the world hath flattered, thou only hast cast out of the world and despised ; thou hast drawn together all the far-stretched greatness, all the pride, cruelty, and ambition of man, and covered it all over with these two narrow words, Hie jaeet ! Lastly, whereas this book, by the title it hath, calls itself The First Part of tlie General History of the World...
Page 174 - O Woman ! in our hours of ease Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made; When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou!
Page 89 - There is a glorious city in the sea; The sea is in the broad, the narrow streets, Ebbing and flowing; and the salt seaweed Clings to the marble of her palaces.
Page 270 - Grand Chorus. As from the power of sacred lays The spheres began to move, And sung the great Creator's praise To all the blessed above ; So when the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour, The trumpet shall be heard on high, The dead shall live, the living die, And Music shall untune the sky.
Page 197 - There is many a pang to pursue me; They may crush, but they shall not contemn ; They may torture, but shall not subdue me; 'Tis of thee that I think not of them.
Page 201 - A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, Dirty and dusky, but as wide as eye Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping In sight, then lost amidst the forestry Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; A huge, dun cupola, like a foolscap crown On a fool's head - and there is London Town!
Page 197 - Deserved to be dearest of all : In the desert a fountain is springing, In the wide waste there still is a tree, And a bird in the solitude singing, Which speaks to my spirit of thee.
Page 84 - Twas the hour of day When setting suns o'er summer seas display A path of glory opening in the west To golden climes and islands of the blest; And human voices, on the silent air, Went o'er the waves in songs of gladness there...

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