"By reason of Arthur's position as its climax as well as of the long line of other traditional heroes, events and associations, and of its breadth of treatment, simplicity, intensity, enthusiasm, accord with the supernatural, vitality of imagination, elevation and sometimes nobility and religious feeling, the poem is the nearest thing we have to a traditional racial epic."

"Even the British Arthur becomes an Englishman, a Germanic hero, brave, daring and open-handed. We are in a world of feasts and vaunting speeches, flytings and lusty battles, fierce deeds and bloody humour, with the Fiend, the Adversary of Man, always round the next corner."

"Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake; For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take."

"They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead, They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed."

"The soul aspiring pants its source to mount, As streams meander level with their fount."

"And thou, vast ocean! on whose awful face Time’s iron feet can print no ruin-trace."

"The solitary monk who shook the world From pagan slumber, when the gospel trump Thundered its challenge from his dauntless lips In peals of truth."

"Ye quenchless stars! so eloquently bright, Untroubled sentries of the shadowy night."

"Mine be a cot beside the hill; A beehive's hum shall soothe my ear; A willowy brook that turns a mill, With many a fall, shall linger near."

"That very law which moulds a tear And bids it trickle from its source,— That law preserves the earth a sphere, And guides the planets in their course."

"You'd scarce expect one of my age To speak in public on the stage; And if I chance to fall below Demosthenes or Cicero, Don't view me with a critic's eye, But pass my imperfections by. Large streams from little fountains flow, Tall oaks from little acorns grow."

"Is this wide world not large enough to fill thee, Nor Nature, nor that deep man's Nature, Art? Are they too thin, too weak and poor to still thee, Thou little heart?"

"Then, never less alone than when alone."

"Those that he loved so long and sees no more, Loved and still loves,—not dead, but gone before,— He gathers round him."

"Breathe slumbrous music round me, sweet and slow, To honied phrases set! Into the land of dreams I long to go. Bid me forget!"

"Too hard for any frog's digestion, To have his froghood call'd in question!"

"For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry. For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily serving him."

"Where is delight? and what are pleasures now?— Moths that a garment fret. The world is turned memorial, crying, "Thou Shalt not forget!""

"The soul of music slumbers in the shell Till waked and kindled by the master's spell; And feeling hearts, touch them but rightly, pour A thousand melodies unheard before!"

"Oh ! She was good as she was fair, None—none on earth above her! As pure in thought as angels are: To know her was to love her."

"The good are better made by ill, As odours crushed are sweeter still."

"Sweet Memory! wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail."

"Lo, steel-clad War his gorgeous standard rears ! The red-cross squadrons madly rage, And mow thro' infancy and age"

"Thou first, best friend that Heav'n assigns below To sooth and sweeten all the cares we know."

"A guardian angel o'er his life presiding, Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing."

"Hence, to the realms of Night, dire Demon, hence! Thy chain of adamant can bind That little world, the human mind, And sink its noblest powers to impotence."

"Go! you may call it madness, folly; You shall not chase my gloom away! There's such a charm in melancholy I would not if I could be gay."

"To vanish in the chinks that Time has made."

"Night with all her negro train, Took possession of the plain; In an hearse she rode reclin'd. Drawn by screech-owls slow and blind: Close to her, with printless feet, Crept Stillness in a winding sheet."

"Ward has no heart, they say, but I deny it: He has a heart, and gets his speeches by it."

"Fireside happiness, to hours of ease Blest with that charm, the certainty to please."

"Madness frequently discovers itself merely by unnecessary deviation from the usual modes of the world. My poor friend Smart showed the disturbance of his mind, by falling upon his knees, and saying his prayers in the street, or in any other unusual place. Now although, rationally speaking, it is greater madness not to pray at all, than to pray as Smart did, I am afraid there are so many who do not pray, that their understanding is not called in question."

"Cold on Canadian hills or Minden’s plain, Perhaps that parent mourned her soldier slain; Bent o'er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew, The big drops mingling with the milk he drew Gave the sad presage of his future years,— The child of misery, baptized in tears."

"Look out upon the stars, my love, And shame them with thine eyes."

"The sportive hopes that used to chase their shifting shadows on, Like children playing in the sun, are gone—for ever gone; And on a careless, sullen peace, my double-fronted mind, Like Janus, when his gates are shut, looks forward and behind.Apollo placed his harp, of old, awhile upon a stone, Which has resounded since, when struck, a breaking harp string's tone; And thus my heart, though wholly now from early softness free, If touch'd, will yield the music yet, it first received of thee."

"The winds are awed, nor dare to breathe aloud; The air seems never to have borne a cloud, Save where volcanoes send to heav'n their curl'd And solemn smokes, like altars of the world."

"Her every tone is music's own, Like those of morning birds, And something more than melody Dwells ever in her words."

"I fill this cup to one made up Of loveliness alone, A woman, of her gentle sex The seeming paragon; To whom the better elements And kindly stars have given A form so fair, that, like the air, 'Tis less of earth than heaven."

"But the waiting time, my brothers, Is the hardest time of all."

"The pure, the beautiful, the bright, That stirred our hearts in youth, The impulse to a wordless prayer, The dreams of love and truth, The longings after something lost, The spirit’s yearning cry, The strivings after better hopes,— These things can never die."

"I send thee pansies while the year is young, Yellow as sunshine, purple as the night; Flowers of remembrance, ever fondly sung By all the chiefest of the Sons of Light."

"And a proverb haunts my mind As a spell is cast, "The mill cannot grind With the water that is past.""

"'Tis the last act which crowns the play."

"How great his theft, who robs himself!"

"Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee."

"If solid happiness we prize, Within our breast this jewel lies, And they are fools who roam. The world has nothing to bestow; From our own selves our joys must flow, And that dear hut, our home."

"To be resign'd when ills betide, Patient when favours are deni'd, And pleas'd with favours given,— Dear Chloe, this is wisdom's part; This is that incense of the heart Whose fragrance smells to heaven."

"Thus hand in hand through life we'll go; Its checker'd paths of joy and woe With cautious steps we'll tread"

"Yet still we hug the dear deceit."

"Lax in their gaiters, laxer in their gait."