He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and time:
The living throne, the sapphire blaze,
Where angels tremble while they gaze,
He saw; but, blasted with excess of light,
Closed his eyes in endless night.

The Progress of Poesy. III. 2. Line 4.

Bright-eyed Fancy, hovering o'er,

Scatters from her pictured urn

Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.1

III. 3. Line 2.

Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate,

Beneath the Good how far,

Great.

Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!

but far above the

III. 3. Line 16.

Confusion on thy banners wait!

Though fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing,

They mock the air with idle state.

The Bard. I. 1. Line 1.

Loose his beard and hoary hair

Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air.2

I. 2. Line 5.

To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.

I. 2. Line 14.

1 Words that weep and tears that speak.

Cowley, The Prophet.

2 An harmless flaming meteor shone for hair,
And fell adown his shoulders with loose care.
Cowley, Davideis, Book ii. Line 102.

The imperial ensign, which, full high advanced,
Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind.

Milton, Paradise Lost, Book i. Line 536.

Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes;
Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.1
The Bard. I. 3. Line 12.
Weave the warp, and weave the woof,
The winding-sheet of Edward's race.
Give ample room, and verge enough,2
The characters of hell to trace.

II. 1. Line 1.

Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows,
While proudly riding o'er the azure realm
In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes;

Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his ev'ning

prey.

II. 2. Line 9. Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murder fed.

II. 2. Line II.

Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!
Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul !

III. I. Line II.

And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.

III. 3. Line 3.

1 As dear to me as are the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart.

Shakespeare, Julius Cæsar, Act ii. Sc. I.

Dear as the vital warmth that feeds my life;
Dear as these eyes, that weep in fondness o'er thee.
Otway, Venice Preserved, Act v. Sc. 1.

2 Like an ample shield,

Can take in all, and verge enough for more.

Dryden, Don Sebastian, Act i. Sc. 1.

Comus, and his midnight crew.

Ode for Music. Line 2.

While bright-eyed Science watches round.

The still small voice of gratitude.

Iron sleet of arrowy shower

Hurtles in the darken'd air.

Line II.

Line 64.

The Fatal Sisters. Line 3.

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea.1
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 1.

Each in his narrow cell forever laid,

The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

Stanza 4

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn.

Stanza 5.

Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor.

Stanza 8.

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike the inevitable hour.

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Stanza 9.

Where, through the long-drawn aisle and fretted

"The lowing herds wind slowly o'er the lea."

Can storied urn, or animated bust,

Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death? Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 11.

Hands that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.

Stanza 12.

But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;' Chill penury repress'd their noble rage,

And froze the genial current of the soul.

Full many a gem of purest ray serene

Stanza 13.

The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear : Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,

And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

Stanza 14.

Some village Hampden, that, with dauntless breast,

The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. Stanza 15.

1 Compare Sir Thomas Browne, Relig. Med., Part i. Sect. xiii.

2 Nor waste their sweetness in the desert air.

Churchill, Gotham, Book ii. Line 20.

And waste their music on the savage race.
Young, Love of Fame, Sat. v. Line 228.

Th' applause of list'ning senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
And read their history in a nation's eyes.
Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 16.
Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind.

Stanza 17.

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray; Along the cool sequester'd vale of life,

They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.1

Stanza 19.

Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

Stanza 20.

And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.

Stanza 21.

For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing ling'ring look behind?

Stanza 22.

E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.2

Stanza 23.

Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.

Stanza 25.

1 Usually quoted "even tenor of their way."
2 Yet in our ashen cold is fire yreken.

Chaucer, The Reves Prologue, Line 28.