Noctes AmbrosianŠ, Volume 5

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Page 11 - Twas thus, by the cave of the mountain afar, While his harp rung symphonious, a hermit began ; No more with himself or with nature at war, He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man.
Page 34 - O broad-armed Fisher of the deep, whose sports can equal thine ? The Dolphin weighs a thousand tons that tugs thy cable line : And night by night 'tis thy delight, thy glory day by day...
Page 33 - COME, see the Dolphin's anchor forged! 'tis at a white heat now — The bellows ceased, the flames decreased; though, on the forge's brow, The little flames still fitfully play through the sable mound. And fitfully you still may see the grim smiths ranking round; All clad in leathern panoply, their broad hands only bare. Some rest upon their sledges here, some work the windlass there.
Page 34 - King, and royal craftsmen we ; Strike in, strike in, the sparks begin to dull their rustling red!" Our hammers ring with sharper din, our work will soon be sped ; Our anchor soon must change his bed of fiery rich array...
Page 8 - Heaven o'er my head seems made of molten brass, The earth of flaming sulphur, yet I am not mad. I am acquainted with sad misery As the tanned galley-slave is with his oar; Necessity makes me suffer constantly, And custom makes it easy.
Page 176 - What needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones, The labour of an age in piled stones, Or that his hallowed relics should be hid Under a star-ypointing pyramid? Dear son of memory, great heir of Fame, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name? Thou in our wonder and astonishment Hast built thyself a livelong monument.
Page 146 - Oh! had he been content to serve the Crown, With virtues only proper to the gown; Or had the rankness of the soil been freed From cockle that oppressed the noble seed; David for him his tuneful harp had strung.
Page 34 - And for the ghastly grinning shark to laugh his jaws to scorn : — To leap down on the kraken's back, where 'mid Norwegian isles He lies, a lubber anchorage for sudden...
Page 420 - twas a bashful art, That I might rather feel, than see, The swelling of her heart. I calmed her fears, and she was calm, And told her love with virgin pride; And so I won my Genevieve, My bright and beauteous Bride.
Page 104 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea. When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

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