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Pagina 111 - I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day, I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, And, turning from my nursery window, drew A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu ! But was it such ? It was.
Pagina 133 - Here hills and vales, the woodland and the plain, Here earth and water, seem to strive again ; Not chaos-like together crushed and bruised, But as the world harmoniously confused: Where order in variety we see, And where, though all things differ, all agree.
Pagina 147 - Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round : Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound ; And he, amidst his frolic play, As if he would the charming air repay, Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.
Pagina 111 - Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, Wretch even then, life's journey just begun ? Perhaps thou gavest me, though unfelt, a kiss ; Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss ; Ah, that maternal smile, it answers yes...
Pagina 147 - But soon he saw the brisk awakening viol, Whose sweet, entrancing voice he loved the best. They would have thought who heard the strain, They saw in Tempe's...
Pagina 150 - Reserved him to more wrath ; for now the thought Both of lost happiness and lasting pain Torments him : round he throws his baleful eyes, That...
Pagina 85 - Homer was the greater genius; Virgil the better artist: in the one, we most admire the man; in the other, the work. Homer hurries us with a commanding impetuosity ; Virgil leads us with an attractive majesty. Homer scatters with a generous profusion ; Virgil bestows with a careful magnificence. Homer, like the Nile, pours out his riches with a sudden overflow ; Virgil, like a river in its banks, with a constant stream.