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When Bishop Berkeley said “there was no matter,
Don Juan. Canto xi. Stanza 1.
And after all, what is a lie? 'T is but
Canto riii. Stanza 9.
Cervantes smil'd Spain's chivalry away.
Society is now one polish'd horde,
Stanza 99. 'T is strange, but true; for truth is always strange, Stranger than fiction.
Canto riv. Stanza 101. The Devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice, An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.
Canto my. Stanza 13. A lovely being, scarcely formed or moulded, A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.
Stanza 43. Friendship is Love without his wings.
L'Amitié est l'Amour sins Ailes. I awoke one morning and found myself famous.
Memoranda from his Life, by Moore, Chap. zie.
1 What is mind? No matter. What is matter? Never mind.- T. H. KEY (once Head Master of University College School). On the authority of F. J. Furnivall.
2 For a man seldom thinks with more earnestness of anything than be does of his dinner. — Piozzi : Anecdotes of Samuel Johnson, p. 149.
BYRON. – KNOX. - BUNN. – HALLECK.
The best of prophets of the future is the past.
Letter, Jan. 28, 1821. What say you to such a supper with such a woman?
Note to a Letter on Bowles's Strictures.
WILLIAM KNOX. 1789-1825.
Oh why should the spirit of mortal be proud ?
ALFRED BUNN. 1790-1860.
I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls,
FITZ-GREENE HALLECK. 1790-1867.
1 See Lady Montagu, page 350.
Come to the bridal chamber, Death:
Come to the mother's, when she feels
Come when the blessed seals
With banquet song, and dance, and wine!
Green be the turf above thee,
Friend of my better days!
On the Death of Joseph Rodman Drake.
There is an evening twilight of the heart,
1 See Rogers, page 455.
They love their land because it is their own,
And scorn to give aught other reason why; Would shake hands with a king upon his throne,
And think it kindness to his Majesty. Connecticut. This bank-note world.
CHARLES WOLFE. 1791–1823.
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
The Burial of Sir John Moore.
Ibid. Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
But we left him alone with his glory.
I might not weep for thee; But I forgot, when by thy side, That thou couldst mortal be.
To Mary. Yet there was round thee such a dawn
Of light, ne'er seen before,
Ibid. Go, forget me! why should sorrow
O'er that brow a shadow fling?
Brightly smile and sweetly sing!
Go, forget me!
HENRY HART MILMAN. 1791-1868.
And the cold marble leapt to life a god.
The Belredere Apollo Too fair to worship, too divine to love.
CHARLES SPRAGUE. 1791–1875.
Lo where the stage, the poor, degraded stage,
Behold! in Liberty's unclouded blaze
Centennial Ode. Stanza 22.
In learned doctors' spite;
To my Cigar.
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. 1792–1822.
Then black despair, The shadow of a starless night, was thrown Over the world in which I moved alone.
The Revolt of Islam. Dedication, Stanza 6. With hue like that when some great painter dips His pencil in the gloom of earthquake and eclipse.
Canto r. Stanza 23 The awful shadow of some unseen Power Floats, tho' unseen, amongst us.
Hymn to Intellectual Beauty.