A Handful of Paper Shavings

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Simpkin, Marshall & Company, 1861

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Página 131 - The breath whose might I have invoked in song Descends on me; my spirit's bark is driven, Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given; The massy earth and sphered skies are riven! I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar; Whilst burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.
Página 127 - And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent ! THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
Página 131 - Romeo : and when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine, That all the world shall be in love with night, And pay no worship to the garish sun.
Página 83 - Fie, fie upon her! There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks ; her wanton spirits look out At every joint and motive of her body.
Página 124 - Therefore, the poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, But music for the time doth change his nature. The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus. Let no such man be trusted.
Página 26 - DUKE'S PALACE. [Enter DUKE, CURIO, LORDS; MUSICIANS attending.] DUKE. If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken and so die.— That strain again;— it had a dying fall; O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.— Enough; no more; 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
Página 139 - Oh ! o'er the eye death most exerts his might, And hurls the spirit from her throne of light ! Sinks those blue orbs in that long last eclipse, But spares, as yet, the charm around her lips...
Página 142 - The devil hath not in all his quiver's choice An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.
Página 127 - Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face, Thrice changed with pale, ire, envy, and despair...
Página 143 - As if thou then hadat shut up in thy brain Some horrible conceit.

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