Edwin the Fair: An Historical Drama

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John Murray, 1842 - 262 psl.
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261 psl. - But I have sinuous shells of pearly hue Within, and they that lustre have imbibed In the sun's palace-porch, where when unyoked His chariot-wheel stands midway in the wave: Shake one and it awakens, then apply Its polisht lips to your attentive ear, And it remembers its august abodes, And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there.
260 psl. - The wind when first he rose and went abroad Through the waste region, felt himself at fault, Wanting a voice • and suddenly to earth Descended with a wafture and a swoop, Where wandering volatile from kind to kind He wooed the several trees to give him one. First he besought the ash ; the voice she lent Fitfully with a free and lashing change Flung here and there its sad uncertainties : The aspen next ; a fluttered frivolous twitter Was her sole tribute : from the willow came, So long as dainty...
75 psl. - In your grey faces smiling — but like you The worse for weather. Here again I stand, Again and on the solitary shore Old ocean plays as on an instrument, Making that ancient music, when not known ? That ancient music only not so old As He who parted ocean from dry land And saw that it was good. Upon my ear, As in the season of susceptive youth, The mellow murmur falls...
84 psl. - In middle-age, — a garden through whose soil The roots of neighbouring forest trees have crept, — It strikes on stringy customs bedded deep, Perhaps on alien passions ; still it grows And lacks not force nor freshness ; but this age Shall aptly choose...
260 psl. - So long as dainty summer dressed her out, A whispering sweetness, but her winter note Was hissing, dry, and reedy : lastly the pine Did he solicit, and from her he drew A voice so constant, soft, and lowly deep, That there he rested, welcoming in her A mild memorial of the ocean-cave Where he was born.
17 psl. - Truths else to them ineffable ? Where's Satan ? His presence, life and kingdom ? Not the air Nor bowels of the earth nor central fires His habitat exhibits ; it is here, Here in the heart of Man ; and if from hence I cast him with discomfiture, that truth Is verily of the vulgar sense conceived, By utterance symbolic, when they deem That met in bodily oppugnancy I tweak him by the snout ; a fair belief Wherein the fleshly and the palpable type Doth of pure truth substantiate the essence. Enough !...
46 psl. - ATHULF. A sort of swarming, curling, tremulous tumbling, As though there were an ant-hill in my bosom. — I said I was ashamed. — Sidroc, you smile ; If at my folly, well ! But if you smile Suspicious of a taint upon my heart...
196 psl. - The soften'd soul, of mild voluptuous ease, And tender sports that chased the kindling hours In odorous gardens or on terraces. To music of the fountains and the birds, Or else in skirting groves by sunshine smitten, Or warm winds kiss'd, whilst we from shine to shade Roved unregarded.
76 psl. - Rides high, and on the thoroughfares of life I find myself a man in middle age, Busy and hard to please. The sun shall soon Dip westerly, — but oh ! how little like Are life's two twilights ! Would the last were first And the first last ! that so we might be soothed Upon the thoroughfares of busy life Beneath the noon-day sun, with hope of joy Fresh as the morn — with hope of breaking lights, Illuminated mists and spangled lawns And woodland orisons and unfolding flowers, As things in expectation....
15 psl. - God, thou'st given unto me a troubled being — So move upon the face thereof, that light May be, and be divided from the darkness ! Arm thou my soul that I may smite and chase The spirit of that darkness, whom not I But Thou through me compellest.

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