The prophetic soul

Of the wide world, dreaming on things to come.

SONN. CVII.

THE impression thus forced upon him connected

itself with a feeling, the precise inverse of that, known to every one, which seems to say-You have been just here, just thus, before !—a feeling in his case not reminiscent but prescient, which passed over him many times afterwards, coming across certain people and places; as if he detected there the process of actual change to a wholly undreamed of and renewed condition of human body and soul.

WALTER PATER.

THRICE or thrice had I lov'd thee
Before I knew thy face or name.
So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame
Angels affect us oft, and worshipped be.

DONNE.

Policy, that heretic,

Which works on leases of short-number'd hours.

SONN. CXXIV.

IT is not Juggling that is to be blamed, but much

Juggling; for the World cannot be governed

without it. All your Rhetoric, and all your Elenchs in Logick come within the compass of Juggling.

SELDEN.

Now, this no more dishonours you at all

Than to take in a town with gentle words
Which else would put you to your fortune and
The hazard of much blood.

I would dissemble with my nature where

My fortunes and my friends at stake required

I should do so in honour.

CORIOLANUS iii. 2.

NOVEMBER

'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth.

MEASURE FOR MEASURE ii. 4.

OD'S calendar is more complete than man's

GOD'S

best martyrologies; and their names are written in the book of life who on earth are

wholly forgotten.

FULLER.

AND many more, whose names on earth are dark,
But whose transmitted effluence cannot die,
So long as fire outlives the parent spark,
Rose, robed in dazzling immortality.

SHELLEY.

AL

My way of life

Is fall'n into the sere, the yellow leaf.

MACBETH V. 3.

LL those arts, rarities, and inventions which vulgar minds gaze at, the ingenious pursue, and all admire, they are but the reliques of an Intellect defaced with Sin and Time. We admire it now, only as Antiquaries do a piece of old coin, for the stamp it once bore, and not for those vanished lineaments and disappearing draughts that remain upon it at present. And certainly that

must needs have been very glorious whose decays are so admirable. He that is comely when old and decrepit, surely was very beautiful when he was young. An Aristotle was but the rubbish of an Adam, and Athens but the rudiments of Paradise.

SOUTH.

THAT time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

SONN. LXXIII.