The Central literary magazine, Zväzok 4

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Strana 246 - Farewell, happy fields, Where joy for ever dwells ; hail horrors, hail Infernal world, and thou profoundest Hell Receive thy new possessor ; one who brings A mind not to be changed by place, or time.
Strana 246 - Horror and doubt distract His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir The hell within him ; for within him Hell He brings, and round about him, nor from Hell One step, no more than from himself, can fly By change of place.
Strana 286 - And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out With wanton heed and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony; That Orpheus...
Strana 245 - The other shape, If shape it might be call'd, that shape had none Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb, Or substance might be call'd that shadow seem'd, For each seem'd either ; black it stood as night, Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell, And shook a dreadful dart ; what seem'd his head The likeness of a kingly crown had on.
Strana 246 - Me miserable ! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath, and infinite despair? Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell; And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep Still threatening to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven.
Strana 242 - Commander ; he, above the rest In shape and gesture proudly eminent, Stood like a tower ; his form had yet not lost All her original brightness, nor appeared Less than Archangel ruined, and the excess Of glory obscured...
Strana 246 - Rocks, dens, and caves ! But I in none of these Find place or refuge ; and the more I see Pleasures about me, so much more I feel Torment within me, as from the hateful siege Of contraries ; all good to me becomes Bane, and in Heaven much worse would be my state.
Strana 242 - Doctrine, which we would know whence learn'd : who saw When this creation was? remember'st thou Thy making, while the Maker gave thee being? We know no time when we were not as now ; Know none before us, self-begot, self-rais'd By our own quickening power, when fatal course Had circled his full orb, the birth mature Of this our native heaven, ethereal sons. Our puissance is our own...
Strana 286 - While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrowed land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Strana 286 - Or call up him that left half told The story of Cambuscan bold, Of Camball, and of Algarsife, And who had Canace to wife, That owned the virtuous ring and glass, And of the wondrous horse of brass On which the Tartar king did ride; And if aught else great bards beside In sage and solemn tunes have sung, Of tourneys, and of trophies hung, Of forests, and enchantments drear, Where more is meant than meets the ear.

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