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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 ? ?
Nole to a Letter on Bowles's Strictures.
WILLIAM KNOX. 1789-1825.
Oh why should the spirit of mortal be proud ?
from life to his rest in the grave.?
ALFRED BUNN. 1790–1860.
I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls,
FITZ-GREENE HALLECK. 1790–1867.
Strike - for
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 !
But to the hero, when his sword
Has won the battle for the free,
The thanks of millions yet to be.
That were not born to die.
Such graves as his are pilgrim shrines,
Shrines to no code or creed confined,
The Meccas of the mind.
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.
From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
I might not weep for thee;
Of light, ne'er seen before,
O’er that brow a shadow Aling?
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,
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 v. Stanza 23. The awful shadow of some unseen Power Floats, tho’ unseen, amongst us. Hymn to Intellectual Beauty.
The Pilgrim of Eternity, whose fame
A pard-like spirit, beautiful and swift.
Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass,
The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, Lull'd by the coil of his crystalline streams
Beside a puinice isle in Baiæ's bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers
Quivering within the wave's intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss and flowers So sweet, the sense faints picturing them.
Ibid. That orbed maiden with white fire laden,
Whom mortals call the moon. The Cloud. iv.
We look before and after,
And pine for what is not;
With some pain is fraught;
To a Skylark. Line 86. Kings are like stars, - they rise and set, they have The worship of the world, but no repose.
Hellas. Line 195.
I See Bacon, page 166.