The life and writings of Henry Fuseli, the former written and the latter ed. by J. Knowles, Bind 1

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Side 348 - O, for a muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention ! A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, And monarchs to behold the swelling scene...
Side 196 - Our lingering parents, and to the eastern gate Led them direct, and down the cliff as fast To the subjected plain; then disappear'd. They looking back all th...
Side 188 - Whose midnight revels by a forest side Or fountain some belated peasant sees, Or dreams he sees, while overhead the moon Sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth Wheels her pale course; they on their mirth and dance Intent, with jocund music charm his ear; At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds.
Side 191 - As when a gryphon through the wilderness With winged course, o'er hill or moory dale, Pursues the Arimaspian, who by stealth Had from his wakeful custody purloin'd The guarded gold : so eagerly the Fiend O'er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare, With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way, And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies.
Side 198 - When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn That ten day-labourers could not end; Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength; And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Side 195 - Shall bring on men." Immediately a place Before his eyes appear'd, sad, noisome, dark ; A lazar-house it seem'd, wherein were laid Numbers of all...
Side 198 - To earn his cream-bowl duly set, When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn That ten day-labourers could not end; Then lies him down, the lubber fiend...
Side 192 - So saying, her rash hand in evil hour Forth reaching to the fruit, she pluck'd, she eat! Earth felt the wound; and Nature from her seat, Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe, That all was lost.
Side 187 - In billows, leave i' th' midst a horrid vale. Then with expanded wings he steers his flight Aloft, incumbent on the dusky air That felt unusual weight, till on dry land He lights, if it were land that ever...
Side 195 - Dire was the tossing, deep the groans : Despair Tended the sick, busiest from couch to couch ; And over them triumphant Death his dart Shook, but delay'd to strike, though oft invoked With vows, as their chief good, and final hope.

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