The Yale Literary Magazine, Volume 19, Issue 4Herrick & Noyes, 1854 |
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Page 151 - They slept on the abyss without a surge — The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave, The moon their mistress had expired before ; The winds were withered in the stagnant air, And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need Of aid from them— She was the universe.
Page 151 - I had a dream, which was not all a dream. The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars Did wander, darkling, in the eternal space, Rayless and pathless, and the icy earth Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air...
Page 126 - Instantly, when my ear caught this vast jEolian intonation, when my eye filled with the golden fulness of life, the pomps of the heavens above, or the glory of the flowers below, and turning when it settled upon the frost which overspread my sister's face, instantly a trance fell upon me. A vault seemed to open in the zenith of the far blue sky, a shaft which ran up for ever.
Page 125 - I stood checked for a moment ; awe, not fear, fell upon me; and, whilst I stood, a solemn wind began to blow — the saddest that ear ever heard. It was a wind that might have swept the fields of mortality for a thousand centuries.
Page 130 - from the anarchy of dreaming sleep," callest into sunny light the faces of long-buried beauties, and the blessed household countenances, cleansed from the
Page 129 - O just, subtle, and all-conquering opium! that, to the hearts of rich and poor alike, for the wounds that •will never heal, and for the pangs of grief that "tempt the spirit to rebel," bringest an assuaging balm — eloquent opium!
Page 130 - Wrongs unredress'd and insults unavenged ; that summonest to the chancery of dreams, for the triumphs of suffering innocence, false witnesses ; and confoundest perjury ; and dost reverse the sentences of unrighteous judges : — thou buildest upon the bosom of darkness, out of the fantastic imagery of the brain, cities and temples beyond the art of Phidias and Praxiteles — beyond the splendour of Babylon and Hekatompylos : and " from the anarchy of dreaming sleep...
Page 125 - But so it was not. I stood checked for a moment; awe, not fear, fell upon me; and, whilst I stood, a solemn wind began to blow — the saddest that ear ever heard.
Page 126 - I, in spirit, rose as if on billows that also ran up the shaft forever ; and the billows seemed to pursue the throne of God ; but that also ran before us and fled away continually. The flight and the pursuit seemed to go on for ever and ever. Frost gathering...
Page 132 - Within the surface of Time's fleeting river Its wrinkled image lies, as then it lay Immovably unquiet, and for ever It trembles, but it cannot pass away!