Shelburne Essays: 5th series

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Putnam, 1908 - 261 Seiten
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Seite 253 - Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds and shall find me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate : I am the captain of my soul.
Seite 18 - THEY told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead, They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed. I wept as I remember'd how often you and I Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky...
Seite 252 - How happy is he born and taught, That serveth not another's will; Whose armour is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill...
Seite 261 - Nature seem'd in love ; The lusty sap began to move ; Fresh juice did stir th' embracing vines ; And birds had drawn their valentines. The jealous trout, that low did lie, Rose at a well-dissembled fly ; There stood my friend, with patient skill, Attending of his trembling quill...
Seite 147 - CHAUCER. AN old man in a lodge within a park; The chamber walls depicted all around With portraitures of huntsman, hawk, and hound, And the hurt deer. He listeneth to the lark, Whose song comes with the sunshine through the dark Of painted glass in leaden lattice bound; He listeneth and he laugheth at the sound, Then writeth in a book like any clerk.
Seite 240 - You violets that first appear, By your pure purple mantles known Like the proud virgins of the year, As if the spring were all your own ; What are you when the rose is blown?
Seite 96 - FAIR flower, that dost so comely grow, Hid in this silent, dull retreat, Untouched thy honied blossoms blow, Unseen thy little branches greet: No roving foot shall crush thee here, No busy hand provoke a tear. By Nature's self in white arrayed, She bade thee shun the vulgar eye...
Seite 148 - ... chamber walls depicted all around With portraitures of huntsman, hawk, and hound, And the hurt deer. He listeneth to the lark, Whose song comes with the sunshine through the dark Of painted glass in leaden lattice bound ; He listeneth and he laugheth at the sound, Then writeth in a book like any clerk. He is the poet of the dawn, who wrote The Canterbury Tales, and his old age Made beautiful with song ; and as I read I hear the crowing cock, I hear the note Of lark and linnet, and from every...
Seite 142 - I HEARD the trailing garments of the Night Sweep through her marble halls ! I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light From the celestial walls ! I felt her presence, by its spell of might, Stoop o'er me from above ; The calm, majestic presence of the Night, As of the one I love, I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight, The manifold, soft chimes, That fill the haunted...
Seite 146 - We thought of wrecks upon the main, Of ships dismasted that were hailed And sent no answer back again.

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