Human Life: A Poem, Part 340

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John Murray, 1819 - Electronic books - 100 pages

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Page 72 - I wist, all their sport in the Park is but a shadow to that pleasure that I find in Plato. Alas! good folk, they never felt what true pleasure meant.
Page 34 - The soul of music slumbers in the shell, Till waked and kindled by the master's spell; And feeling hearts — touch them but rightly— pour A thousand melodies unheard before...
Page 8 - For now the caudle-cup is circling there, Now, glad at heart, the gossips breathe their prayer, And, crowding, stop the cradle to admire The babe, the sleeping image of his sire. A few short years — and then these sounds shall hail The day again, and gladness fill the vale ; So soon the child a youth, the youth a man, Eager to run the race his fathers ran. Then the huge ox shall yield the broad sirloin ; The ale...
Page 74 - ... an inward prompting which now grew daily upon me, that by labour and intense study, (which I take to be my portion in this life,) joined with the strong propensity of nature, I might perhaps leave something so written to aftertimes, as they should not willingly let it die.
Page 86 - They stand between the mountains and the sea ; Awful memorials, but of whom we know not. The seaman passing, gazes from the deck, The buffalo-driver, in his shaggy cloak, Points to the work of magic, and moves on. Time was they stood along the crowded street, Temples of gods, and on their ample steps What various habits, various tongues beset The brazen gates for prayer and sacrifice...
Page 74 - I began thus far to assent both to them and divers of my friends here at home ; and not less to an inward prompting which now grew daily upon me, that by labour and intent study, which I take to be my portion in- this life, joined with the strong propensity of nature, I might perhaps leave something so written to after-times, as they should not willingly let it die.
Page 88 - From my youth upward have I longed to tread This classic ground — And am I here at last ? Wandering at will through the long porticoes, And catching, as through some majestic grove, Now the blue ocean, and now, chaos-like, Mountains and mountain-gulfs, and, half-way up, Towns like the living rock from which they grew ? A cloudy region, black and desolate, Where once a slave withstood a world in arms.
Page 72 - I came to Broadgate, in Leicestershire, to take my leave of that noble Lady Jane Grey, to whom I was exceeding much beholding. Her parents, the duke and the duchess, with all the household, gentlemen and gentlewomen, were hunting in the park. I found her in her chamber reading...
Page 39 - Such grief was ours — it seems but yesterday — When in thy prime, wishing so much to stay, 'Twas thine, Maria, thine without a sigh At midnight in a Sister's arms to die ! Oh thou wert lovely — lovely was thy frame, And pure thy spirit as from Heaven it came ! And, when recalled to join the blest above, Thou diedst a victim to exceeding love, Nursing the young to health.
Page 21 - ... impart : Watch o'er his slumbers like the brooding dove, And, if she can, exhaust a mother's love ! But soon a nobler task demands her care, Apart she joins his little hands in prayer, Telling of Him who sees in secret there. And now the volume on her knee has caught His wandering eye — now many a written thought, Never to die, with many a lisping sweet, His moving, murmuring lips endeavour to repeat.

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