The Indicator, Volume 1 |
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Page 105
A FEW THOUGHTS ON SLEEP . This is an article for the reader to think of , when
he or she is warm in bed , a little before he goes to sleep , the clothes at his ear ,
and the wind moaning in some distant crevice . Blessings , ” exclaimed Sancho ...
A FEW THOUGHTS ON SLEEP . This is an article for the reader to think of , when
he or she is warm in bed , a little before he goes to sleep , the clothes at his ear ,
and the wind moaning in some distant crevice . Blessings , ” exclaimed Sancho ...
Page 106
People sometimes sleep , as well as wake , by reason of their sorrow . The
difference seems to depend upon the nature of their temperament ; though in the
most excessive cases , sleep is perhaps Nature's never - failing relief , as
swooning is ...
People sometimes sleep , as well as wake , by reason of their sorrow . The
difference seems to depend upon the nature of their temperament ; though in the
most excessive cases , sleep is perhaps Nature's never - failing relief , as
swooning is ...
Page 108
There never yet grew corne , ne gras , Ne tree , ne nought that aught was , Beast ,
ne man , ne naught else ; Save that there were a few wells Came running fro the
cliffs adowne , That made a deadly sleeping soune , And runnen downe right ...
There never yet grew corne , ne gras , Ne tree , ne nought that aught was , Beast ,
ne man , ne naught else ; Save that there were a few wells Came running fro the
cliffs adowne , That made a deadly sleeping soune , And runnen downe right ...
Page 175
Her hand on both their heads , and yearned , and said , “ Sleep , sleep my boys ,
a light and pleasant sleep ; My little souls , my twins , my guard and keep ! Sleep
happy , and wake happy ! ” And she kept Rocking the mighty buckler , and they ...
Her hand on both their heads , and yearned , and said , “ Sleep , sleep my boys ,
a light and pleasant sleep ; My little souls , my twins , my guard and keep ! Sleep
happy , and wake happy ! ” And she kept Rocking the mighty buckler , and they ...
Page 233
Thou bringest us among the holiday lasses on the green sward ; layeșt us to
sleep among fairies in the bowers of midsummer wakest us with the song of the
lark and the silver - sweet voices of lovers ; anon settest us upon enchanted
islands ...
Thou bringest us among the holiday lasses on the green sward ; layeșt us to
sleep among fairies in the bowers of midsummer wakest us with the song of the
lark and the silver - sweet voices of lovers ; anon settest us upon enchanted
islands ...
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admiration answer appears arriving asked beautiful become better body busie called comes common curious death delight doth eyes face fair father fear feel gave gentle give given grace green half hand happy head hear heard heart heaven hope human imagination INDICATOR it's Italy keep kind king knew lady least leave less light lived look manner master mean mind nature never night once pain passed perhaps person play pleasant pleasure poet poor present reader reason received respect round seems seen sense shew side sleep sort speak spirit story street suffer sweet tears tell thee thing thou thought told took touch true turn voice whole wish write young
Popular passages
Page 3 - How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank* Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines...
Page 347 - Saturn, quiet as a stone, Still as the silence round about his lair ; Forest on forest hung about his head Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there, Not so much life as on a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
Page 344 - Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppress'd Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away : Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day ; Blissfully haven'd both from joy and pain ; Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray ; Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain, As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.
Page 347 - As she is famed to do, deceiving elf. Adieu ! adieu ! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades : Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: — do I wake or sleep?
Page 345 - Ode to a Nightingale MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk : Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness, — That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
Page 88 - THE fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the Ocean, The winds of Heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one spirit meet and mingle. Why not I with thine?
Page 347 - There was a listening fear in her regard, As if calamity had but begun; As if the vanward clouds of evil days Had spent their malice, and the sullen rear Was with its stored thunder labouring up.
Page 11 - Give me leave To enjoy myself : that place that does contain My books, the best companions, is to me A glorious court, where hourly I converse With the old sages and philosophers ; And sometimes, for variety, I confer With kings and emperors, and weigh their counsels ; Calling their victories, if unjustly got, Unto a strict account, and, in my fancy, Deface their ill-plac'd statues.
Page 44 - The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage! My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further, to make thee a room: Thou art a monument without a tomb, And art alive still while thy book doth live And we have wits to read and praise to give.
Page 189 - Sirens' harmony, That sit upon the nine infolded spheres, And sing to those that hold the vital shears, And turn the adamantine spindle round, On which the fate of Gods and men is wound. Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie, To lull the daughters of Necessity, And keep unsteady Nature to her law, And the low world in measured motion draw After the heavenly tune, which none can hear Of human mould, with gross unpurged ear...
Bibliographic information
| Title | The Indicator, Volume 1 |
| Editor | Leigh Hunt |
| Publisher | J. Appleyard, 1820 |
| Original from | the University of Michigan |
| Digitized | 14 Jul 2006 |
| Export Citation | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |