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Another, blood diffus'd about the heart;
And to her essence each doth give a part. But, as the sharpest eye discerneth nonght,
Except the sunbeam in the air do shine, So the best soul with her reflecting thought, Sees not herself without some light divine.
Davies. The soul of man, a native of the skies, High-born and free, her freedom should maintain Unsold, unmortgag'd for earth’s little bribes
Young. Let earth dissolve-yon ponderous orb descend, And grind us into dust--the soul is safe! The man emerges-mounts above the wreck, As towering flame from nature's funeral pyre!
Young. Let fortune empty all her quiver in me, I have a soul that, like an ample shield, Can take in all, and verge enough for more.
,Dryden. The soul that desires not release from the clay, Is no bird in a cage, but a corpse in the tomb.
Anware, from the Persian.
Like season'd timber, never gives,
Jove's own tree, That holds the woods in awful sovereignty, Requires a depth of lodging in the ground; High as his topmost boughs to heaven ascend, So low his roots to hell's dominions tend. Dryden A sovereign's great example forms a people; The public breast is noble, or is vile, As he inspires it.
SOUND. I HATE those potent madmen who keep all Mankind awake while they, by their great deeds, Are drumming hard upon this hollow world, Only to make a sound to last for ages, Etherege. Well-sounding verses are the charms we use, Heroic thoughts and virtue to infuse: Things of deep sense we may in prose unfold, But they move more in lofty numbers told. By the loud trumpet which our courage aids, We learn that sound, as well as sense, persuades.
Of himself is none; But that eternal Infinite, and One, Who never did begin, and ne'er can end, On him all beings as their source depend.-Dryden. But were not nature still endow'd at large With all which life requires, though unadorn'd With such enchantment? Wherefore then her form So exquisitely fair? her breath perfum'd With such etherial sweetness! whence her voice Inform’d at will to raise or to depress The impassioned soul? whence the robes of light Which thus invest her with more lovely pomp Than fancy can describe! whence but from Thee, O Source Divine of overflowing love! Akenside.
SPECTRE. The ghosts of traitors from the bridge descend, With bold fantastic spectres to rejoice. Dryden.
A horrid spectre rises to my sight,
SPECTACLE_SPECTATOR. Forth riding underneath the castle wall, A dunghill of dead carcasses he spied, The dreadful spectacle of that sad house of pride.
SPECULATION. Avaunt! and quit my sight! let the earth hide thee! Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold; Thou hast no speculation in those eyes, Which thou dost glare with!
They who have, or who have not, whom their great
Thenceforth to speculations high and deep
AND when she spake, Sweet words, like dropping honey, she did shed; And 'twixt the pearls and rubies softly brake A silver sound that heavenly music seemed to make.
Spenser. When he speaks, The air, a chartered libertine, is still, And mute wonder lurketh in men's ears, To steal his voice and honied sentences.—Shakspere.
When the fowler blows his whistle,
Jelaleddin, from the Persian.
Jami, from the Persian. Oh! speak that again! Sweet as the syren's tongue those accents fall, And charm me to my ruin.
Southern. Speech is the golden harvest that followeth the
flowering of thought; Yet oftentimes runneth it to husk, and the grains
be withered and scanty : Speech is reason's brother, and a kindly prerogative That likeneth him to his Maker, who spake and it
was done: Spirit may mingle with spirit, but sense requireth
a symbol; And speech is the body of a thought, without which
it were not seen. Martin F. Tupper.
Shakspere. I can call up spirits from the vasty deep.
-Why, so can I, or so can any man; But will they come, when you do call for them ?
Shakspere. For spirits, freed from mortal laws, with ease Assume w hat sexs and what shapes they please.
Pope. . Take thou the poet's counsel to thy heart:
Question thy spirit, make its wisdom thineShut out the world, pride, pomp, and every part;
As these retire, we gaze on worlds divine. Then spiritual loveliness appears
God's nature glows through every form we see; For mind's the prophecy of other spheres,
And is itself its own futurity.
The key of the Invisible behold:
SPLEEN. THE spleen with sudden vapour clouds the brain, And binds the spirits in its heavy chain; Howe'er the cause fantastic may appear, Th’ effect is real and the pain sincere.--Blackmore. The spleen is seldom felt where Flora reigns; The low’ring eye, the petulance, the frown, And sullen sadness, that o'ershade, distort, And mar the face of beauty, when no cause For such immeasurable woe appears; These Flora banishes, and gives the fair Sweet smiles, and bloom less transient than her own.