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I chose this humbleness divine,
Borne out of fault, should not be thine,

Preferring prayers elate with pride
To sin with penitence allied.”

CONCEPTION AND EXECUTION.

We figure to ourselves
The thing we like, and then we build it up
As chance will have it, on the rock or sand;
For thought is tired of wandering o'er the world,
And home-bound Fancy runs her bark ashore.
Philip Van Artevelde, Part 1. Act i. Scož SIR H. TAYLOR.

JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE.

AIRY NOTHINGS.

FROM "THE TEMPEST," ACT IV. SC. 1.
OUR revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air ;
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

Of its own beauty is the wind diseased,
And fevers into false creation :- where,
Where are the forms the sculptor's soul hath

seized !
In him alone. Can Nature show so fair ?
Where are the charıns and virtues which we

dare
Conceive in boyhood and pursue as meni,
The unreached Paradise of our despair,
Which o'er-inforins the pencil and the pen,
And overpowers the page where it would bloom

again?
Childe Harold, Cant. iv.

BYRON.

SHAKESPEARE.

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A step,

FRAGMENTS.

IMAGINATION.
Within the soul a faculty abides,
That with interpositions, which would hide
And darken, so can deal that they become
Contingencies of pomp; and serve to exalt
Her native brightness. As the ample moon,
In the deep stillness of a summer even
Rising behind a thick and lofty grove,
Burns, like an unconsuming fire of light,
In the green trees; and, kindling on all sides
Their leafy umbrage, turns the dusky veil
Into a substance glorious as her own.

The Excursion, Book iv.

A single step, that freed me from the skirts
Of the blind vapor, opened to my view
Glory beyond all glory ever seen
By waking sense or by the dreaming soul !
The appearance, instantaneously disclosed,
Was of a mighty city, - boldly say
A wilderness of building, sinking far
And self-withdrawn into a boundless depth,
| Far sinking into splendor, - without end !
Fabric it seemed of diamond and of gold,
With alabaster domes, and silver spires,
And blazing terrace upon terrace, high
Uplifted ; here, serene pavilions bright,
In avenues disposed ; there, towers begirt
i With battlements that on their restless fronts
Bore stars, - illumination of all gems!
The Excursion, Book ii.

WORDSWORTH.

WORDSWORTH.

And, as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen

The Mind's Eve.
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing HAMLET. My father, – methinks I see my
A local habitation and a name.

father. Midsummer Night's Dream, Act v. Sc... SHAKESPEARE, į

HORATIO. O! where, my lord ! O for a muse of fire, that would ascend

HAM.

In my mind's eye, Horatio, The brightest heaven of invention !

Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 2. King Henry V., Chorus,

SHAKESPEARE.

On man, on nature, and on human life, Hark, his hands the lyre explore !

Musing in solitude, I oft perceive Bright-eyed Fancy, hovering o'er,

Fair trains of imagery before me rise, Scatters from her pictured urn

Accompanied by feelings of delight, Thoughts that breathe and words that burn. Pure, or with no unpleasing sadness mixed. Progress of Poesy.

T. GRAY. I The Excursion : Prelude.

SHAKESPEARE

WORDSWORTH

But 0, what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height Avaunt ! and quit my sight. Let the earth hide Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll?

thee! Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold ;

Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul ! Thou hast no speculation in those eyes, The Bard.

T. Gray. Which thou dost glare with!

SHAKESPEARE

SHAKESPEARE.

MILTON.

SPIRITS.

Hence, horrible shadow!

| Unreal mockery, hence !
Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth | Macbeth, Act iii. Sc. 4.
Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep.
Paradise Lost, Book iv.

MILTON. And then it started, like a guilty thing

Upon a fearful summons. I have heard,
Spirits when they please

The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, Can either sex assume, or both,

Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat

Awake the god of day ; aud at his warning, Can execute their airy purposes, And works of love or enmity fulfil.

Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,

The extravagant and erring spirit hies Paradise Lost, Book i.

MILTON.

To his confine.
Worse

Hamlet, Act i. Sc. I.
Than fables yet have feigned, or fear conceived,
Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimæras dire. This is the very coinage of your brain.
Paradise Lost, Book ii.

Hamle: Act iii. Sc. 4.

SHAKESPEARE. 'T is the djinns' wild-streaming swarın

By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night Whistling in their tempest-flight;

Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard Snap the tall yews 'neath the storm,

| Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers. Like a pine-flame crackling bright;

King Richard III , Ad v. Sc. 3.
Swift and heavy, low, their crowd
Through the heavens rushing loud !--
Like a lurid thunder-cloud

WITCHES.
With its bolt of fiery night!
The Djinns. Trans. of J. L. O'SULLIVAN. V. HUGO. BANQUO.

What are these,

So withered, and so wild in their attire ; But shapes that come not at an earthly call

That look not like the iuhabitants o' the earth, Will not depart when mortal voices bid ;

And yet are on 't?
Lords of the visionary eye, whose lid,
Once raised, remains aghast, and will not fall !

The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,
Dion,

WORDSWORTH,

And these are of them. – Whither have they

vanished ? GHOSTS OF THE DEAD.

MACBETH. Into the air, and what seemed MACBETH. Thou canst not say I did it; never

corporal melted

As breath into the wind.
shake thy gory locks at me.

Macbeth, Act i. Sc. 3.
LADY MACBETH. O proper stuff!
This is the very painting of your fear;

Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;
This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said,

Come like shadows, so depart. Led you to Duncan.

Macbeth, Act iv. Sc. i.

SHAKESPEAPE

SHAKESPEARE.

SHAKESPEARE.

MACBETH. Pr'ythee, see there ! behold ! look !

FAIRIES lo ! how say you ?

They're fairies ! he that speaks to them shall die: The times have been, I'll wink and couch ; no man their sports must That, when the brains were out, the man would eye. die,

Merry Wives of Windsor, Act v. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE And there an end ; but now they rise again, With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, This is the fairy land : 0, spite of spites ! And push us from our stools.

We talk with goblins, owls, and elvish sprites. | Comedy of Errors, Act ij. Sc.2.

SHAKESPEARE.

SHAKESPEARE

Comus,

MILTON.

I took it for a faery vision

Those are pearls that were his eyes : Of some gay creatures of the element,

Nothing of him that doth fade, That in the colors of the rainbow live

But doth suffer a sea-change And play i' th' plighted clouds.

Into something rich and strange. Comus.

. MILTON.

Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell : ARIEL Where the bee sucks, there suck 1:

[Burden] Ding-dong. In a cowslip's bell I lie ;

| Hark! now I hear them, - Ding-dong, bell.

The Tempest, Act i. Sc. I.
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat's back I do fly

Sabrina fair,
After summer, merrily.

Listen where thou art sitting, Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,

Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

In twisted braids of lilies knitting The Tempest, Ac v Sc. 1.

SHAKESPEARE.

The loose train of thy am ber-dropping hair. Puck. How now, spirit, whither wander you?! Listen for dear honor's sake, Fairy. Over hill, over dale,

Goddess of the silver lake,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,

Listen and save.
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander everywhere,

WOOD-NYMPHS.
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,

Egeria ! sweet creation of some heart

Which found no mortal resting place so fair To dew her orbs upon the green : The cowslips tall her pensioners be ;

As thine ideal breast; whate'er thou art In their gold coats spots you see ;

Or wert, - a young Aurora of the air, Those be rubies, fairy favors,

The nympholepsy of some fond despair ;

Or, it might be, a beauty of the earth,
In those freckles live their savors :
I must go seek some dewdrops here,

Who found a more than common votary there

Too inuch adoring; whatsoe'er thy birth, And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.

Thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied Midsummer Night's Dream, Act ii. Sc. : SHAKESPEARE.

forth. Fairies use flowers for their charactery.

Childe Harold, Cant. iv.

BYRON. Merry Wives of Windsor, Adv. Sc. 5. SHAKESPEARE

Quite spent and out of breath he reached the

tree,

And, listening fearfully, he heard once more WATER SPRITES.

The low voice murmur “Rhæcus !" close at hand: Come unto these yellow sands,

Whereat he looked around him, but could see And then take hands ;

Naught but the deepening glooms beneath the Court'sied when you have, and kissed

oak. The wild waves whist,

Then sighed the voice, “O Rhæcus ! nevermore Foot it featly here and there ;

Shalt thou behold me or by day or night, And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.

Me, who would fain have blessed thee with a love Hark, hark !

More ripe and bounteous than ever yet
Borogh, wowgh.

Filled up with nectar any mortal heart;
The watch-dogs bark :

But thou didst scorn my humble messenger, Bough, wowgh.

And sent'st him back to me with bruised wings. Hark, hark! I hear

We spirits only show to gentle eyes, The strain of strutting chanticleer

We ever ask an undivided love. Cry, Cock-a-doodle-doo.

And he who scorns the least of Nature's works

Is thenceforth exiled and shut out from all. Full fathom five thy father lies

Farewell ! for thou canst never see me more." Of his bones are coral made :

J. R. LOWELL,

Rhæcus.

And though the hand is througed again, o Lea,
Tracje sadness touches all that go with three.
The mole birds planung note, the wild, sharp call,
Share thing oun aperite it is sadress all!
Howo darkosten upon the waves looks down
Zonder toll bluff! a ke with this brow anonon,
And see! Grose sable times along the steep
are come to join they requiem, groomy Deap!!
Like stoked ssconks they start & chant the ringes
Brow the dead with the low-briting surge..

Point H. Dana

POEMS OF TRAGEDY

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