Queen Mab, a philosophical poem, with notes. [reputed to have been given by the author to W. Francis. Wanting the title-leaf, dedication and part of the last leaf].

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Strona 72 - The wind goeth toward the south, and turneth about unto the north; it whirleth about continually, and the wind returneth again according to his circuits.
Strona 72 - Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, Now green in youth, now withering on the ground; Another race the following spring supplies; They fall successive, and successive rise: So generations in their course decay; So flourish these, when those are pass'd away.
Strona 78 - Chastity is a monkish and evangelical superstition, a greater foe to natural temperance even than unintellectual sensuality; it strikes at the root of all domestic happiness, and consigns more than half of the human race to misery, that some few may monopolize according to law. A system could not well have been devised more studiously hostile to human happiness than marriage.
Strona 24 - The Fairy and the Spirit Approached the overhanging battlement. — Below lay stretched the universe ! There, far as the remotest line That bounds imagination's flight, Countless and unending orbs In mazy motion intermingled, Yet still fulfilled immutably Eternal nature's law. Above, below, around The circling systems formed A wilderness of harmony ; Each with undeviating aim, In eloquent silence, through the depths of space Pursued its wondrous way.
Strona 32 - When man's maturer nature shall disdain The playthings of its childhood; — kingly glare Will lose its power to dazzle; its authority Will silently pass by; the gorgeous throne Shall stand unnoticed in the regal hall, Fast falling to decay; whilst falsehood's trade Shall be as hateful and unprofitable As that of truth is now.
Strona 23 - Spirit of Nature ! here ! In this interminable wilderness Of worlds, at whose immensity Even soaring fancy staggers, Here is thy fitting temple. Yet not the lightest leaf That quivers to the passing breeze Is less instinct with thee : Yet not the meanest worm That lurks in graves and fattens on the dead Less shares thy eternal breath. Spirit of Nature ! thou ! Imperishable as this scene. Here is thy fitting temple.
Strona 35 - Cloud upon cloud, in dark and deepening mass, Roll o'er the blackened waters ; the deep roar Of distant thunder mutters awfully ; Tempest unfolds its pinion o'er the gloom That shrouds the boiling surge ; the...
Strona 102 - Ah ! how unlike the man of times to come ! Of half that live the butcher and the tomb ; Who, foe to nature, hears the general groan, Murders their species, and betrays his own. But just disease to luxury succeeds, And every death its own avenger breeds ; The fury passions from that blood began, And turn'd on man a fiercer savage, man.
Strona 25 - The passions, prejudices, interests, That sway the meanest being, the weak touch That moves the finest nerve, And in one human brain Causes the faintest thought, becomes a link In the great chain of nature.
Strona 10 - The cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place.

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