The Poetical Works of Robert Southey: With a Memoir of the Author ...

Little, Brown, 1860
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˹ 251 - My hopes are with the Dead ; anon My place with them will be, And I with them shall travel on Through all Futurity ; Yet leaving here a name, I trust, That will not perish in the dust.
˹ 250 - Around me I behold, Where'er these casual eyes are cast, The mighty minds of old: My never-failing friends are they, With whom I converse day by day. With them I take delight in weal And seek relief in woe; And while I understand and feel How much to them I owe, My cheeks have often been bedew'd With tears of thoughtful gratitude.
˹ 192 - And should my youth, as youth is apt I know, Some harshness show, All vain asperities I day by day Would wear away, Till the smooth temper of my age should be Like the high leaves upon the Holly Tree.
˹ 260 - Two things have I required of thee ; deny me them not before I die: remove far from me vanity and lies: give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with food convenient for me: lest I be full, and deny thee, and say, "Who is the Lord?" or lest I be poor, and steal, and take the name of my God in vain.
˹ 202 - Resolved, their uses done. Not to the grave, not to the grave, my Soul, Follow thy friend beloved, The spirit is not there...
˹ 52 - Even though in want of food, to seize the prey Which nature offers. King ! is all this just? Think you, we do not feel the wrongs we suffer ? The hour of retribution is at hand, And tyrants tremble mark me, King of England Walworth (comes behind him, and stabs him.) Insolent rebel, threatening the King ! Piers.
˹ 180 - I thee, thou busy, busy Bee. Thou art a miser, thou busy, busy Bee! Late and early at employ ; Still on thy golden stores intent, Thy summer in heaping and hoarding is spent What thy winter will never enjoy ; Wise lesson this for me, thou busy, busy Bee ! Little dost thou think, thou busy, busy Bee ! What is the end of thy toil.
˹ 228 - But fare thee well ! Mine is no narrow creed ; And HE who gave thee being did not frame The mystery of life to be the sport Of merciless Man. There is another world For all that live and move, a better one, Where the proud bipeds, who would fain confine INFINITE GOODNESS to the little bounds Of their own charity, may envy thee.
˹ 159 - Go thou and seek the House of Prayer ! I to the woodlands bend my way And meet RELIGION there. She needs not haunt the high,arch'd dome to pray Where storied windows dim the doubtful day : With LIBERTY she loves to rove...
˹ 146 - The unfeeling discipline of schools, In thought he loves to roam ; And tears will struggle in his eye While he remembers with a sigh The comforts of his home.