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Page 452 - O thou that, with surpassing glory crowned, Look'st from thy sole dominion like the god Of this new World — at whose sight all the stars Hide their diminished heads — to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name, 0 Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams, That bring to my remembrance from what state 1 fell, how glorious once above thy Sphere, Till pride and worse ambition threw me down, Warring in Heaven against Heaven's matchless King!
Page 452 - O thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my fathers! Whence are thy beams, O sun! thy everlasting light? Thou comest forth in thy awful beauty; the stars hide themselves in the sky; the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western wave. But thou thyself movest alone; who can be a companion of thy course?
Page 462 - Millions of Spirits for his fault amerced* Of Heaven, and from eternal splendours flung For his revolt; yet faithful how they stood, Their glory withered: as when Heaven's fire Hath scathed the forest oaks, or mountain pines, With singed top their stately growth though bare Stands on the blasted heath.
Page 463 - Looks through the horizontal misty air Shorn of his beams, or from behind the moon In dim eclipse disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs.
Page 453 - Why am I thus bereaved thy prime decree ? The sun to me is dark And silent as the moon, When she deserts the night, Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.
Page 453 - The oaks of the mountains fall; the mountains themselves decay with years; the ocean shrinks and grows again; the moon herself is lost in heaven, but thou art for ever the same, rejoicing in the brightness of thy course. When the world is dark with tempests, when thunder rolls and lightning flies, thou lookest in thy beauty from the clouds, and laughest at the storm.
Page 451 - I have seen the walls of Balclutha, but they were desolate. The fire had resounded in the halls: and the voice of the people is heard no more. The stream of Clutha was removed from its place, by the fall of the walls. The thistle shook there its lonely head: the moss whistled to the wind. The fox looked out from the windows, the rank grass of the wall waved round...
Page 458 - ... rage And plunge us in the flames? or from above Should intermitted vengeance arm again His red right hand to plague us?