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ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE MONOTONE.
INVOCATION TO LIGHT. Opening of the Third Book of “ Paradise Lost.”. Hail, holy Light! offspring of heaven first-born, Or of the Eternal co-eternal beam, May I express thee unblamed ? since God is light, And never but in unapproached light Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee, Bright effluence of bright essence increate. Or hear'st thou rather, pure ethereal stream, Whose fountain who shall tell ? Before the sun, Before the heavens thou wert, and at the voice Of God, as with a mantle, didst invest The rising world of waters dark and deep, Won from the void and formless infinite. Thee I revisit now with bolder wing, Escaped the Stygian pool, though long detain'd In that obscure sojourn; while in my flight, Through utter and through middle darkness borne, With other notes than to the Orphean lyre, I sung of Chaos and eternal Night; Taught by the heavenly Muse to venture down The dark descent, and up to reäscend, Though hard and rare; thee I revisit safe, And feel thy sovran vital lamp; but thou Revisit'st not these eyes, that roll in vain To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn; So thick a drop-serene hath quench'd their orbs, Or dim diffusion veil'd. Yet not the more Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, Smit with the love of sacred song; but chief Thee, Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath, That wash thy hallow'd feet, and warbling flow, Nightly I visit: nor sometimes forget Those other two equall'd with me in fate, So were I equall'd with them in renown, Blind Thamyris, and blind Mæonides, And Tiresias, and Phineus, prophets old : Then feed on thoughts, that voluntary move
Harmonious numbers; as the wakeful bird
ARTEVELDE’S FAREWELL TO THE CITIZENS OF GHENT.
Byron. 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; Morn came, and went, — and came, and brought no day, And men forgot their passions, in the dread Of this their desolation; and all hearts Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light. And they did live by watch-fires; and the thrones, The palaces of crowned kings, the huts, The habitations of all things which dwell, Were burned for beacons: cities were consumed, And men were gathered round their blazing homes, To look once more into each other's face: Happy were those who dwelt within the eye Of the volcanoes and their mountain torch: A fearful hope was all the world contained: Forests were set on fire; but, hour by hour, They fell and faded; and the crackling trunks Extinguished with a crash - and all was black. The brows of men, by the despairing light, Wore an unearthly aspect, as, by fits, The flashes fell upon them. Some lay down And hid their eyes, and wept; and some did rest Their chins upon their clinchéd hands, and smiled; And others hurried to and fro, and fed Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up, With mad disquietude, on the dull sky, The pall of a past world; and then again With curses, cast them down upon the dust, And gnash'd their teeth, and howl'd. The wild birds shriek'd And, terrified, did flutter on the ground, And flap their useless wings: the wildest brutes Came tame, and tremulous; and vipers crawl'd And twined themselves among the multitude, Hissing, but stingless — they were slain for food : And War, which for a moment was no more, Did glut himself again:— a meal was bought With blood, and each sat sullenly apart,
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
á—à— bright, pleasant, cheerful. Middle
á -à-faith, peace, temperance, charity. Low
áà— melancholy, suffering, sadness. Very low
á - à -awe, desolation, woe, horror.
“ That, in the formation of language, men have been much influenced by a regard to the nature of things and actions meant to be represented, is a fact of which every known speech gives proof. In our own language, for instance, who does not perceive in the sound of the words thunder, boundless, terrible, a something appropriate to the sublime ideas intended to be conveyed ? In the word crash we hear the very action implied. Imp, elf, how descriptive of the miniature beings to which we apply them! Fairy, how light and tripping, just like the fairy herself !-the word, no more than the thing, seems fit to bend the grass-blade, or shake the tear from the blue-eyed flower." - Robert Chalmers.
Very High Pitch.
There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree,
And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea !” -- Bryant. “Ring joyous chords!—ring out again!
A swifter still and a wilder strain !
“On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;