Desultory Thoughts in London: Titus and Gisippus, with Other Poems

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C. and H. Baldwyn, 1821 - 251 стор.

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Сторінка 9 - What if God, willing to shew his wrath, and to make his power known, endured with much longsuffering the vessels of wrath fitted to destruction...
Сторінка 72 - My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
Сторінка 18 - Oh [Lamb], thou art a mystery to me! Thou art so prudent, and so mad with wildness, Thou art a source of everlasting glee ! Yet desolation of the very childless Has been thy lot! Never in one like thee Did I see worth majestic from its mildness ; So far, in thee, from being an annoyance E'en to the vicious, 'tis a source of joyance.
Сторінка 186 - tis nought to me; Since God is ever present, ever felt, In the void waste as in the city full; And where he vital breathes, there must be joy.
Сторінка 24 - No ! with magnanimous self-sacrifice, And lofty inadvertency of fame, He felt there is a bliss in being wise, Quite independent of the wise man's name. Who now can say how many a soul may rise To a nobility of moral aim It ne'er had known, but for that spirit brave, Which, being freely gifted, freely gave ? 69.
Сторінка 180 - Calm, though impassion'd ! durable, though keen! It is all fresh like the young Spring's first green ! Children seem spirits from above descended, To whom still cleaves Heaven's atmosphere serene ; Their very wildnesses with truth are blended : Fresh from their skiey mould, they cannot be amended!
Сторінка 24 - ... magnanimous self-sacrifice, And lofty inadvertency of fame, He felt there is a bliss in being wise, Quite independent of the wise man's name. Who now can say how many a soul may rise To a nobility of moral aim It ne'er had known, but for that spirit brave, Which, being freely gifted, freely gave ? Sometimes I think that I'ma blossom blighted ; But this I ken, that should it not prove so, If I am not inexorably spited Of all that dignifies mankind below ; By him I speak of, I was so excited, While...
Сторінка 185 - He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, And all are slaves beside. There's not a chain That hellish foes, confederate for his harm, Can wind around him, but he casts it off With as much ease as Samson his green withes.
Сторінка 23 - I — ungifted with a strain Fit to arrest the ear of him who knows To build such verse as Seraphim might deign To listen to, nor break the deep repose Of those immortal ardours that inspire Spirit of the inextinguishable fire — How shall I fitly speak on such a theme ? He is a treasure by the world neglected, Because he hath not, with a prescience dim, Like those whose every aim is...

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