Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes; Weave the warp, and weave the woof, The characters of hell to trace. II. 1. Line 1. Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm; prey. Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! III. I. And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest. Line 11. III. 3. Line 3. 1 As dear to me as are the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart. Shakespeare, Julius Cæsar, Act ii. Sc. 1. Dear as the vital warmth that feeds my life; 2 Like an ample shield, Can take in all, and verge enough for more. Dryden, Don Sebastian, Act i. Sc. 1. Comus, and his midnight crew. Ode for Music. Line 2. While bright-eyed Science watches round. The still small voice of gratitude. Iron sleet of arrowy shower Hurtles in the darken'd air. Line II. Line 64. The Fatal Sisters. Line 3. The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. Stanza 4 The breezy call of incense-breathing morn. Stanza 5. Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile Stanza 8. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike the inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Slanza 9. Where, through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault, The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. 1 The first edition reads, Stanza 10. "The lowing herds wind slowly o'er the lea." Can storied urn, or animated bust, Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death? Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza II. Hands that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre. Stanza 12. But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;1 Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul. Full many a gem of purest ray serene Stanza 13. The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear : Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Stanza 14 Some village Hampden, that, with dauntless breast, The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. Stanza 15. 1 Compare Sir Thomas Browne, Relig. Med., Part i. Sect. xiii. 2 Nor waste their sweetness in the desert air. Churchill, Gotham, Book ii. Line 20. And waste their music on the savage race. Th' applause of list'ning senates to command, Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.1 Stanza 19. Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. Stanza 20. And many a holy text around she strews, Stanza 21. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, Stanza 22. E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.2 Stanza 23. Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, Stanza 25. 1 Usually quoted “even tenor of their way." Chaucer, The Reves Prologue, Line 28. One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill, Along the heath, and near his fav'rite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he. Here rests his head upon the lap of earth, Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, He gain'd from heav'n ('t was all he wish'd) a friend. No farther seek his merits to disclose, Ibid. Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose,) The bosom of his Father and his God. Ibid. And weep the more, because I weep in vain. The hues of bliss more brightly glow, Ode on the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude. Line 45. The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, 1 But God, who is able to prevail, wrestled with him; marked him for his own. — Walton, Life of Donne. |