The poetical works of Leigh Hunt, revised by himself and ed. with an intr. by S.A. Lee, Volum 2


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Pàgina 85 - ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold: Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, "What writest thou?" The vision raised its head, And, with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord.
Pàgina 85 - Nay, not so," Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, But cheerly still ; and said, " I pray thee, then, Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.
Pàgina 104 - TO THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET LEIGH HUNT Green little' vaulter in the sunny grass, Catching your heart up at the feel of June — Sole voice that's heard amidst the lazy noon When even the bees lag at the summoning brass...
Pàgina 104 - IT flows through old hushed Egypt and its sands, Like some grave mighty thought threading a dream, And times and things, as in that vision, seem Keeping along it their eternal stands, — Caves, pillars, pyramids, the shepherd bands That roamed through the young earth, the glory extreme Of high Sesostris, and that southern beam, The laughing queen that caught the world's great hands.
Pàgina 110 - O scaly, slippery, wet, swift, staring wights, What is't ye do? What life lead? eh, dull goggles? How do ye vary your vile days and nights ? How pass your Sundays?
Pàgina 110 - For ever stare! O flat and shocking face, Grimly divided from the breast below! Thou that on dry land horribly dost go With a split body and most ridiculous pace, Prong after prong, disgracer of all grace, Long-useless-finned, haired, upright, unwet, slow!
Pàgina 135 - Thy sidelong pillowed meekness, Thy thanks to all that aid, Thy heart, in pain and weakness, Of fancied faults afraid ; The little trembling hand That wipes thy quiet tears, These, these are things that may demand Dread memories for years. Sorrows...
Pàgina 89 - Let worth grow frenzied if it will; The caliph's judgment shall be master still. Go, and since gifts so move thee, take this gem, The richest in the Tartar's diadem, And hold the giver as thou deemest fit!
Pàgina 172 - See (and scorn all duller Taste) how heav'n loves colour; How great Nature, clearly, joys in red and green ; What sweet thoughts she thinks Of violets and pinks, And a thousand flushing hues, made solely to be seen...
Pàgina 113 - Suspended, ere it fell, a nation's breath. He smote ; and clinging to the serious chords With Godlike ravishment drew forth a breath, So deep, so strong, so fervid, thick with love — Blissful, yet laden as with twenty prayers — That Juno yearned with no diviner soul To the first burthen of the lips of Jove.

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