Letters for the press

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Page 33 - In every government, though terrors reign, Though tyrant kings or tyrant laws restrain, How small, of all that human hearts endure, That part which laws or kings can cause or cure! Still to ourselves in every place consigned, Our own felicity we make or find. With secret course, which no loud storms annoy, Glides the smooth current of domestic joy: The lifted axe, the agonizing wheel, Luke's iron crown, 1 and Damien's bed of steel.
Page 165 - Tis to create, and in creating live A being more intense, that we endow With form our fancy, gaining as we give The life we image, even as I do now.
Page 165 - He, who grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life, So that no wonder waits him...
Page 174 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet.
Page 173 - There was a sound of revelry by night. And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry ; and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men : A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again ; And all went merry as a marriage-bell, But hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell.
Page 174 - No sleep till morn when youth and pleasure meet, To chase the glowing hours with flying feet, — But, hark! — that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm!
Page 63 - In oblique shadow on the walls. And since those trappings first were new How many a cloudless day, To rob the velvet of its hue, Has come and passed away ! How many a setting sun hath made That curious lattice-work of shade ! Crumbled beneath the hillock green The cunning hand must be, That...
Page 174 - Within a window'd niche of that high hall Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain ; he did hear That sound, the first amidst the festival, And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear ; And when they smiled because he...
Page 170 - Alarm'd she trembles at the moving shade ; And feels alive through all her tender form, The whisper'd murmurs of the gathering storm ; Shuts her sweet eyelids to approaching night, , And hails with freshen'd. charms the rising light.
Page 166 - Sky, mountains, river, winds, lake, lightnings ! ye, With night, and clouds, and thunder, and a soul To make these felt and feeling, well may be Things that have made me watchful ; the far roll Of your departing voices is the knoll Of what in me is sleepless, — if I rest. But where of ye, O tempests ! is the goal ? Are ye like those within the human breast ? Or do ye find, at length, like eagles, some high nest...

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