Pieces of a Broken-down Critic: Picked Up by Himself, Volumes 1-4

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Page 4 - Compound for sins they are inclined to By damning those they have no mind to.
Page 189 - Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white ; Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk ; Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font: The fire-fly wakens: waken thou with me. " Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost, And like a ghost she glimmers on to me. " Now lies the Earth all Danae to the stars, And all thy heart lies open unto me.
Page 188 - My spirit closed with Ida's at the lips; Till back I fell, and from mine arms she rose Glowing all over noble shame ; and all Her falser self slipt from her like a robe, And left her woman, lovelier in her mood Than in her mould that other, when she came From barren deeps to conquer all with love...
Page 175 - OF old sat Freedom on the heights, The thunders breaking at her feet : Above her shook the starry lights : She heard the torrents meet. There in her place she did rejoice, Self-gather'd in her prophet-mind, But fragments of her mighty voice Came rolling on the wind. Then stept she down thro...
Page 189 - ... font : The fire-fly wakens : waken thou with me. Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost, And like a ghost she glimmers on to me. Now lies the Earth all Danae to the stars, And all thy heart lies open unto me. Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me. Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, And slips into the bosom of the lake : So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip Into my bosom and be lost in me.
Page 208 - Moreover his mother made him a little coat, and brought it to him from year to year, when she came up with her husband to offer the yearly sacrifice.
Page 16 - With these thou seest — if indeed I go (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) To the island-valley of Avilion; Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow. Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
Page 190 - And so through those dark gates across the wild That no man knows. Indeed I love thee ; come Yield thyself up : my hopes and thine are one : Accomplish thou my manhood and thyself, Lay thy sweet hands in mine and trust to me.
Page 190 - And girdled her with music. Happy he With such a mother ! faith in womankind Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high Comes easy to him, and tho' he trip and fall He shall not blind his soul with clay.
Page 271 - Eugh, obedient to the benders will ; The Birch for shaftes ; the Sallow for the mill ; The Mirrhe sweete-bleeding in the bitter wound ; The warlike Beech ; the Ash for nothing ill ; The fruitful! Olive ; and the Platane round ; The carver Holme ; the Maple seeldom inward sound.

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