Notes and Queries

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Oxford University Press, 1875
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Стр. 101 - If that the heavens do not their visible spirits Send quickly down to tame these vile offences, It will come, Humanity must perforce prey on itself, Like monsters of the deep.
Стр. 85 - Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide, In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side ; Some great cause, God's new Messiah offering each the bloom or blight, Parts the goats upon the left hand, and the sheep upon the right; And the choice goes by forever "twixt that darkness and that light.
Стр. 319 - But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill...
Стр. 74 - THE poet in a golden clime was born, With golden stars above ; Dower'd with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, The love of love.
Стр. 443 - With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.
Стр. 176 - Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery ? O, yes it doth ; a thousand-fold it doth.
Стр. 252 - The eternal regions : lowly reverent Towards either throne they bow, and to the ground With solemn adoration down they cast Their crowns inwove with amarant and gold ; Immortal amarant, a flower which once In Paradise, fast by the tree of life, Began to bloom...
Стр. 339 - I am no way facetious, nor disposed for the mirth and galliardize of company; yet in one dream I can compose a whole comedy, behold the action, apprehend the jests, and laugh myself awake at the conceits thereof.
Стр. 231 - A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it...
Стр. 156 - And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding : which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base, That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot; Follow your spirit: and, upon this charge, Cry — God for Harry! England! and saint George ! [Exeunt.

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