...despair itself is mild Even as the winds and waters an» ; I could lie down like a tired child, And uiiglit steal ou me, Ami I might feel iu the warm air My cheek grow cold, und hear the sea Breathe...

...borne, and yet must bear, 228 TilJ death like sleep might steal on me, And 1 might frei in the wann st how In those old days, one summer noon, an arm Hose up from out the bosom of the lak PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. BYRON'S LATEST VERSES. CMissoloachi. January 33, 1834. On this day I completed...

...have nor hope nor health, Nor peace within nor calm around— I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet must beai Till death, like sleep, might steal on me." SHELLHT. "How late, you have slept, Miss !" said Kitty,...

...despair itself is mild Even as the winds and waters are ; I could lie down like a tired child, And 3. Shelley.— Born 1792, Died 1822. 1370.— OZYMANDIAS OP EGYPT. I met a traveller from an antique land...

...SOiüiOW AND ADVERSITY. -a Till death like sleep might steal on me, And 1 might feel in the wann air Jly ng Octavius with Mark Antony Have made themselves so strong ; — for with her d PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. BYRON'S LATEST VERSES. [Minokngihi. January 33, 184. On this day I completed...

...rolled by. I got so miserable, that, I felt with Shelley — " I could lie down, like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear !" For what profit did this warring against destiny bring me ? Nothing — nothing, but the " vanity...

...now despair itself is mild Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child And weep away the life of care, Which I have borne, and yet must bear — typifies the same. I need not quote Carlyle, or Tennyson,— the two saddest souls of modern times...

...child, And weeti away the life of care Which 1 have borne, and yet must hear, Till death like deep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air...sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. TO A SKYLARK. HAIL to thee, blithe spirit! Bird thou never wort, That from heaven, or near it, Pourest...

...the life of care Which I have borne, and yet mnsthear, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And 1 might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its hist monotony. TO A SKYLARK. HAH to thee, blithe spirit 1 Bird thou never wert, That from heaven, or...

...upon the midnight with no pain. When? (/). I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away this life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear. Till death like sleep might steal on me. Under what influences and presences of Nature ? (g). Johnson said there is "perhaps some melancholy"...