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Página 111 - Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests ; in all time, — Calm or convulsed, in breeze or gale or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving — boundless, endless, and sublime, The image of eternity, the throne Of the Invisible ; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone Obeys thee ; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
Página 32 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes : And thus far hear me, Cromwell; And, — when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble...
Página 77 - The impetuous song, and say from whom you rage. His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills ; And let me catch it, as I muse along. Ye headlong torrents, rapid, and profound; Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze Along the vale ; and thou, majestic main, A secret world of wonders in thyself, Sound His stupendous praise ; whose greater voice Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall. Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers, In mingled clouds to Him ; whose sun exalts,...
Página 84 - Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small, He sees his little lot, the lot of all; Sees no contiguous palace rear its head, To shame the meanness of his humble shed...
Página 71 - And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and discharged...
Página 70 - Ah wherefore ! he deserved no such return From me, whom he created what I was, In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none ; nor was his service hard. What could be less, than to afford him praise, The easiest recompense, and pay him thanks, How due...
Página 27 - And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, And say ' To-morrow is Saint Crispian : ' Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, And say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.
Página 77 - As home he goes beneath the joyous moon. Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams, Ye constellations, while your angels strike, Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre. Great source of day! best image here below Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide, From world to world, the vital ocean round, On Nature write with every beam His praise.
Página 109 - twere its natural torches, for divine Should be the light which streams here, to illume This long-explored but still exhaustless mine Of contemplation...
Página 99 - ... High Court of Justice with the placid courage which has half redeemed his fame. Neither military nor civil pomp was wanting. The avenues were lined with grenadiers. The streets were kept clear by cavalry. The peers, robed in gold and ermine, were marshalled by the heralds under Garter King-at-arms.