Paracelsus

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J. M. Dent, 1898 - 157 páginas

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Página 25 - Binds it, and makes all error : and, to KNOW, Rather consists in opening out a way Whence the imprisoned splendor may escape, Than in effecting entry for a light Supposed to be without.
Página 20 - I go to prove my soul ! I see my way as birds their trackless way. I shall arrive ! what time, what circuit first, I ask not : but unless God send his hail Or blinding fireballs, sleet or stifling snow, In some time, his good time, I shall arrive : He guides me and the bird. In his good time ! Mich.
Página 104 - Over the sea our galleys went, With cleaving prows in order brave, To a speeding wind and a bounding wave, A gallant armament : Each bark built out of a forest-tree, Left leafy and rough as first it grew, And nailed all over the gaping sides, Within and without, with black bull-hides, Seethed in fat and suppled in flame, To bear the playful billows...
Página 139 - As man, that is ; all tended to mankind, And, man produced, all has its end thus far; But in completed man begins anew A tendency to God.
Página 136 - Thus he dwells in all, From life's minute beginnings, up at last To man — the consummation of this scheme Of being — the completion of this sphere Of life...
Página 25 - Truth is within ourselves; it takes no rise from outward things, whate'er you may believe.
Página 136 - Of being, the completion of this sphere Of life: whose attributes had here and there Been scattered o'er the visible world before, Asking to be combined, dim fragments meant To be united in some wondrous whole, Imperfect qualities throughout creation, Suggesting some one creature yet to make, Some point where all those scattered rays should meet Convergent in the faculties of man.
Página 135 - The centre-fire heaves underneath the earth, And the earth changes like a human face ; The molten ore bursts up among the rocks, Winds into the stone's heart, outbranches bright In hidden mines, spots barren river-beds, Crumbles into fine sand where sunbeams bask — God joys therein.
Página 96 - And strew faint sweetness from some old Egyptian's fine worm-eaten shroud Which breaks to dust when once unrolled ; Or shredded perfume, like a cloud From closet long tO quiet vowed. With mothed and dropping arras hung, Mouldering her lute and books among, As when a queen, long dead, was young.
Página 45 - Beneath the tent-tree by the wayside well: And this in language as the need should be, Now poured at once forth in a burning flow, Now piled up in a grand array of words.

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