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Seite 37 - Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me...
Seite 38 - And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out. So much the rather thou, celestial Light, Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers Irradiate ; there plant eyes, all mist from thence Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell Of things invisible to mortal sight.
Seite 48 - Before their eyes in sudden view appear The secrets of the hoary deep; a dark Illimitable ocean, without bound, Without dimension, where length, breadth, and height, And time, and place, are lost; where eldest Night And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold Eternal anarchy, amidst the noise Of endless wars, and by confusion stand.
Seite 41 - Age is dark and unlovely; it is like the glimmering light of the moon when it shines through broken clouds, and the mist is on the hills: the blast of the north is on the plain; the traveller shrinks in the midst of his journey.
Seite 48 - Into this wild abyss, The womb of Nature, and, perhaps, her grave, Of neither sea, nor shore, nor air, nor fire, But all these in their pregnant causes mix'd Confusedly, and which thus must ever fight, Unless the Almighty Maker them ordain His dark materials to create more worlds...
Seite 51 - When heaven is opening on my sightless eyes, When airs from paradise refresh my brow, — That earth in darkness lies. In a purer clime, My being fills with rapture ! waves of thought Roll in upon my spirit ! strains sublime Break over me unsought. Give me now my lyre ! I feel the stirrings of a gift divine ; Within my bosom glows unearthly fire, Lit by no skill of mine.
Seite 48 - Eternal anarchy, amidst the noise Of endless wars, and by confusion stand : For Hot, Cold, Moist, and Dry, four champions fierce, Strive here for mast'ry, and to battle bring Their embryon atoms ; they around the flag Of each his faction...
Seite 58 - Boast not thyself of to-morrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth.
Seite 40 - When the world is dark with tempests, when thunder rolls and lightning flies, thou lookest in thy beauty from the clouds, and laughest at the storm. But to Ossian thou lookest in vain, for he beholds thy beams no more: whether thy yellow hair flows on the eastern clouds, or thou tremblest at the gates of the west. But thou art, perhaps, like me, for a season; thy years will have an end. Thou shalt sleep in thy clouds, careless of the voice of the morning.