Soft as a bride, the rosy dawn From dewy sleep doth rise, And, bath'd in blushes, hath withdrawn And, with her orbs dissolv'd in dew, Bends like an angel softly through The blue-pavilion'd skies. MRS. AMELIA B. WELBY. O Twilight! spirit that dost render birth To dim enchantments-melting heaven to earth- A softness like the atmosphere of dreams. MRS. NORTON's Dream. How calmly sinks the setting sun! Yet twilight lingers still; G. D. PRENTICA DEATH-GRAVE. 'Tis midnight's holy hour-and silence now Ere the evening lamps are lighted, G. D. PRENTICE H. W. LONGFELLOW Night's starry host gather'd in brightness high, MRS. C. H. W. ESLING. The sun now rests upon the mountain tops. The hour of melancholy, mirth, and love. CARLOS WILCOX. MRS. BROOKS. The busy world was still, the solemn moon P. B. ELDER. The king of day had dipp'd his weary head J. T. WATSON DEATH-GRAVE Death is a fearful thing: The wearied and most loathed earthly life, To what we fear of death! SHAKSPEARE 176 DEATH-GRAVE. Is it not better to die willingly, Imperious Cæsar, dead and turn'd to clay, Death lies on her, like an untimely frost Can storied urn, or animated bust SPENSER SHAKSPEARE SHAKSPEARE Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Death, grim death Will fold me in his leaden arms, and press The sceptred king, the burthen'd slave, Death is the crown of life: GRAY'S Elegy. CONGREVE Were death denied, poor man would live in vain. YOUNG'S Night Thoughts. The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave, 177 DEATH-GRAVE. A death-bed's a detector of the heart: Through life's grimace that mistress of the scene; YOUNG'S Night Thoughts O death, all eloquent! you only prove POPE'S Eloisa Death, when unmask'd, shows us a friendly face, The prince, who kept the world in awe, GOLDSMITH GAY's Fables. There shall the yew her sable branches spread, Leaves have their times to fall, GAY'S Dione And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set - but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O death! MRS. HEMANS Let him who crawls, enamour'd of decay, BYRON'S Corsair. How peaceful and how powerful is the grave! BYRON. 178 DEATH-GRAVE. Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, And dull the film along his dim eye grew. BYRON BYRON'S Lara Yes, this was once ambition's airy hall; BYRON'S Childe Harold. Death shuns the wretch who fain the blow would meet. BYRON'S Don Juan. At times, botl. wisn'd for and implor'd, At times sought with self-pointed sword, BYRON'S Mazeppa. What shall he be ere night?-Perchance a thing BYRON'S CO sair Oh God! it is a fearful thing To see the human soul take wing! BYRON'S Prisoner of Chillon. How sweetly could I lay my head O, grief beyond all other griefs, when fate MOORE. MOORE'S Lalla Rookh. Like one who draws the drapery of his couch W. C. BRYANT |