The Spirit of the Age, Or, Contemporary Portraits

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H. Colburn, 1825 - 424ÆäÀÌÁö

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143 ÆäÀÌÁö - Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much; Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind.
362 ÆäÀÌÁö - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
58 ÆäÀÌÁö - That which is now a horse, even with a thought The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct As water is in water.
398 ÆäÀÌÁö - High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating time. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin...
262 ÆäÀÌÁö - Out went the taper as she hurried in ; Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died: She closed the door, she panted, all akin To spirits of the air, and visions wide : No uttered syllable, or, woe betide...
363 ÆäÀÌÁö - The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave ! Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry!
382 ÆäÀÌÁö - Now upon Syria's land of roses Softly the light of eve reposes, And like a glory the broad sun Hangs over sainted Lebanon, Whose head in wintry grandeur towers And whitens with eternal sleet, While summer in a vale of flowers Is sleeping rosy at his feet.
191 ÆäÀÌÁö - The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself; * Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, Leave not a wreck behind.
145 ÆäÀÌÁö - Who but must laugh, if such a man there be? Who would not weep, if Atticus were he?
383 ÆäÀÌÁö - ... gleam Variously in the crimson beam Of the warm West,— as if inlaid With brilliants from the mine, or made Of tearless rainbows, such as span The unclouded skies of Peristan.

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