Dante the Man and the Poet

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W. Heffer & Sons, Limited, 1922 - 190 pages
 

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Page 30 - I can give not what men call love, But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above And the Heavens reject not, — The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow?
Page 41 - Certain people of importance" (Such he gave his daily dreadful line to) "Entered and would seize, forsooth, the poet." Says the poet — "Then I stopped my painting.
Page 33 - And therewithal such a bewilderment Possess'd me, that I shut mine eyes for peace; And in my brain did cease Order of thought, and every healthful thing. Afterwards, wandering Amid a swarm of doubts that came and went, Some certain women's faces hurried by, And shrieked to me, 'Thou too shalt die, shalt die!
Page 30 - I think one is always in love with something or other; the error, and I confess it is not easy for spirits cased in flesh and blood to avoid it, consists in seeking in a mortal image the likeness of what is, perhaps, eternal.
Page 37 - HOW doth the city sit solitary, that was full of people ! How is she become as a widow ! she that was great among the nations, And princess among the provinces, how is she become tributary!
Page 171 - Hover'd around; and, like a troop of bees, Amid the vernal sweets alighting now, Now, clustering, where their fragrant labour glows, Flew downward to the mighty flower, or rose From the redundant petals, streaming back Unto the steadfast dwelling of their joy...
Page 144 - Of joy, when misery is at hand. That kens Thy learn'd instructor. Yet so eagerly If thou art bent to know the primal root. From whence our love gat being, I will do As one, who weeps and tells his tale. One day, For our delight we read of Lancelot, How him love thrall'd.
Page 29 - ... wanderings, far aloft In the clear golden prime of my youth's dawn, Upon the fairy isles of sunny lawn, Amid the enchanted mountains, and the caves Of divine sleep, and on the air-like waves Of wonder-level dream, whose tremulous floor Paved her light steps ; on an imagined shore, Under the gray beak of some promontory She met me, robed in such exceeding glory That I beheld her not.
Page 47 - BEYOND the sphere which spreads to widest space Now soars the sigh that my heart sends above ; A new perception born of grieving Love Guideth it upward the untrodden ways. When it hath reached...
Page 38 - Soared her clear spirit, waxing glad the while ; And is in its first home, there where it is. Who speaks thereof, and feels not the tears warm Upon his face, must have become so vile As to be dead to all sweet sympathies. Out upon him ! an abject wretch like this May not imagine anything of her, — He needs no bitter tears for his relief. But sighing comes, and grief, And the desire to find no comforter, (Save only Death, who makes all sorrow brief,) To him who for a while turns in his thought How...

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