The Poetical Works, Volume 3D. A. Borrenstein, 1828 |
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Page 210 - In vain, they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die. Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires, And unawares Morality expires. Nor public flame, nor private dares to shine; Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine Lo, thy dread empire, Chaos ! is restored; Light dies before thy uncreating word : Thy hand, great Anarch, lets the curtain fall, And universal darkness buries all.
Page 152 - Till one wide conflagration swallows all. Thence a new world to Nature's laws unknown, Breaks out refulgent, with a heaven its own : Another Cynthia her new journey runs, And other planets circle other suns. The forests dance, the rivers upward rise, Whales sport in woods, and dolphins in the skies ; And last, to give the whole creation grace, Lo ! one vast egg produces human race. Joy fills his soul, joy innocent of thought ;
Page 209 - ... varying Rain-bows die away. Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires, The meteor drops, and in a flash expires. As one by one, at dread Medea's strain, The sick'ning stars fade off th' ethereal plain; As Argus
Page 19 - ... delivered. As for those which are the most known, and the most received, they are placed in so beautiful a light, and illustrated with such apt allusions, that they have in them all the graces of novelty, and make the reader, who was before acquainted with them, still more convinced of their truth and solidity.
Page 169 - But soon, ah soon rebellion will commence, If music meanly borrows aid from sense: Strong in new arms, lo! giant Handel stands, Like bold Briareus, with a hundred hands; To stir, to rouse, to shake the soul he comes, And Jove's own thunders follow Mars's drums. Arrest him, Empress; or you sleep no more'— She heard, and drove him to th
Page 59 - Close to those walls where Folly holds her throne, And laughs to think Monroe would take her down, Where o'er the gates, by his famed father's hand Great Gibber's brazen, brainless brothers stand ; One cell there is, conceal'd from vulgar eye, The cave of Poverty and Poetry. Keen hollow winds howl thro' the bleak recess, Emblem of music caus'd by emptiness.
Page 185 - But chief her shrine where naked Venus keeps, And Cupids ride the lion of the deeps; Where, eased of fleets, the Adriatic main Wafts the smooth eunuch and enamour'd swain.
Page 159 - Polly, till then obscure, became all at once the favourite of the town ; her pictures were engraved, and sold in great numbers ; her life written, books of letters and verses to her published, and pamphlets made even of her sayings and jests. Furthermore, it drove out of England, for that season, the Italian opera, which had carried all before it for ten years.
Page 148 - Henley stands, Tuning his voice, and balancing his hands. How fluent nonsense trickles from his tongue ! How sweet the periods, neither said, nor sung ! Still break the benches, Henley ! with thy strain, While Sherlock, Hare, and Gibson preach in vain.
Page 208 - In vain, in vain — the all-composing hour Resistless falls : the muse obeys the pow'r. She comes ! she comes ! the sable throne behold Of Night primaeval and of Chaos old! Before her, Fancy's gilded clouds decay, And all its varying rainbows die away. Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires, The meteor drops, and in a flash expires.