Beautiful poetry, selected by the ed. of The Critic

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Стр. 11 - And ye, beneath life's crushing load Whose forms are bending low; Who toil along the climbing way With painful steps and slow, — Look now! for glad and golden hours Come swiftly on the wing; O, rest beside the weary road, And hear the angels sing.
Стр. 30 - Clarence, in steel so bright, Though but a maiden knight, Yet in that furious fight, Scarce such another. Warwick in blood did wade, Oxford the foe invade, And cruel slaughter made, Still as they ran up; Suffolk his axe did ply, Beaumont and Willoughby Bare them right doughtily, Ferrers and Fanhope.
Стр. 357 - The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour, which doth in it live. The canker blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumed tincture of the roses.
Стр. 224 - Oh yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood ; That nothing walks with aimless feet ; That not one life shall be destroyed, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
Стр. 190 - All heaven and earth are still — though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most ; And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep...
Стр. 145 - Spirit of Beauty, that dost consecrate With thine own hues all thou dost shine upon Of human thought or form, - where art thou gone? Why dost thou pass away and leave our state. This dim vast vale of tears, vacant and desolate?
Стр. 224 - In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed; In war, he mounts the warrior's steed; In halls, in gay attire is seen; In hamlets, dances on the green. Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below, and saints above ; For love is heaven, and heaven is love.
Стр. 75 - Is it far away in some region old Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold, — Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, And the diamond lights up the secret mine, And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand, — Is it there, sweet mother, that better land ? " " Not there, not there, my child ! " Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy ! Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy, Dreams cannot picture a world so fair, — Sorrow and death may not enter there ; Time doth not breathe on its fadeless...
Стр. 260 - O, let not virtue seek Remuneration for the thing it was ; For beauty, wit, High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating time. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, — That all with one consent praise new-born gawds.
Стр. 154 - Out of the fertile ground he caused to grow All trees of noblest kind, for sight, smell, taste ; And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, High eminent, blooming ambrosial fruit Of vegetable gold...

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