Are melted into air, into thin air; And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherits, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind: we are such stuff As dreams are made of, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. Tempest, act. iv. sc. 4. LONGFELLOW. COLERIDGE (Trans.) At the approach of extreme peril. H. H. At the King's gate the subtle noon Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints whose bones MILTON TENNYSON A voice by the cedar-tree COWLEY BYRON. PAGE 326 158 274 122 270 442 198 2-2 225 221 363 151 40 73 237 198 158 502 224 352 96 75 34 349 80 70 149 30 143 191 505 219 17 35 32 82 83 502 268 87 239 45 195 202 195 72 129 26 448 Between the dark and the daylight Between the acting of a dreadful thing Birdie, birdie, will you, pet Blackened and bleeding, helpless, panting, prone Blow, blow, thou winter wind Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny, bonny bride But are ye sure the news is true? But fare you well, auld Nickie-Ben. But for ye speken of such gentilesse But souls that of his own good life partake |