Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

Coleridge continued.]

Beheld the Iliad and the Odyssey,

Rise to the swelling of the voiceful sea.

Fancy in Nubibus.

Our myriad-minded Shakespeare.

Biog. Lit. Ch. xv.

A dwarf sees farther than the giant when he has the giant's shoulder to mount on.1

The Friend. Sec. i. Essay 8.

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

1771-1854.

When the good man yields his breath

(For the good man never dies).2

The Wanderer of Switzerland. Part v.

[blocks in formation]

1 A dwarf on a giant's shoulders sees further of the

two.

Herbert, Jacula Prudentum.

Grant them but dwarfs, yet stand they on giants' shoulders, and may see the further. — Fuller, The Holy State, Ch. vi. 8.

2

* Θνήσκειν μὴ λέγε τοὺς ἀγαθούς. - Callim, Ερ. Χ.

438

Montgomery. - Spencer.

[Montgomery continued.

If God hath made this world so fair,
Where sin and death abound,
How beautiful beyond compare

Will paradise be found!

The Earth full of God's Goodness.

Here in the body pent,

Absent from Him I roam;

Yet nightly pitch my moving tent

A day's march nearer home.

At Home in Heaven.

Gashed with honourable scars,
Low in Glory's lap they lie;
Though they fell, they fell like stars,
Streaming splendour through the sky.

The Battle of Alexandria.

Prayer is the soul's sincere desire,

Uttered or unexpressed,

The motion of a hidden fire

That trembles in the breast.

Original Hymns. What is Prayer?

WILLIAM ROBERT SPENCER..
1770-1834.

Too late I stayed, forgive the crime, —
Unheeded flew the hours;

How noiseless falls the foot of time,1

That only treads on flowers.

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

THOMAS CAMPBELL. 1777–1844.
CAMPBEL

'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue.

Pleasures of Hope. Parti. Line 7.

But hope, the charmer, lingered still behind.

Line 40.

O Heaven! he cried, my bleeding country save. Line 359.

Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell, And Freedom shriek'd as Kosciusko fell! Line 381. On Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow, His blood-dyed waters murmuring far below.

Line 385.

And rival all but Shakespeare's name below.

Line 472.

Who hath not owned, with rapture-smitten frame, The power of grace, the magic of a name?

Part ii. Line 5.

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

And Man, the hermit, sighed-till Woman smil'd.

Line 37.

While Memory watches o'er the sad review
Of joys that faded like the morning dew.

Line 45.

There shall be love, when genial morn appears, Like pensive Beauty smiling in her tears.

Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 95.

And Muse on Nature with a poet's eye.

That gems the starry girdle of the year.

Line 98.

Line 194

Melt, and dispel, ye spectre-doubts, that roll
Cimmerian darkness o'er the parting soul!

Line 263.

O Star-eyed Science! hast thou wandered there, To waft us home the message of despair?

Line 325.

But, sad as angels for the good man's sin,
Weep to record, and blush to give it in.'

Line 357.

Cease, every joy, to glimmer on my mind,
But leave-oh! leave the light of Hope behind!
What though my winged hours of bliss have been,
Like angel-visits, few and far between.2

The hunter and the deer a shade.3

Line 375

O'Conner's Child. St. 5.

Another's sword has laid him low,

Another's and another's;

And every hand that dealt the blow,

Ah me it was a brother's!

1 Cf. Sterne, p. 326.

2 Cf. Norris, p. 238, and Blair, p. 307.

Ibid. St. 10.

* Verbatim from Freneau's Indian Burying-Ground.

'T is the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before.1 Lochiel's Warning.

With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe.

I.

Ye mariners of England!

That guard our native seas:

Whose flag has braved a thousand years,

The battle and the breeze!

III.

Ibid.

Ye Mariners of England.

Britannia needs no bulwarks,

No towers along the steep;

Her march is o'er the mountain-waves,

Her home is on the deep.

IV.

The meteor flag of England

Shall yet terrific burn ;

Till danger's troubled night depart,

And the star of peace return.

The combat deepens. On, ye brave,

Who rush to glory, or the grave!

Hohenlinden.

There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin; The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill!

1 Poets are the hierophants of an unapprehended inspiration; the mirrors of the gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the present. - Shelley, A Defence of Poetry.

« AnteriorContinuar »