Quotes
Quotes about Land
Religion stands on tiptoe in our land,
Ready to pass to the American strand.
Under the tropic is our language spoke,
And part of Flanders hath receiv'd our yoke.
The low'ring element
Scowls o'er the darken'd landscape.
With thee conversing I forget all time,
All seasons, and their change,--all please alike.
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun
When first on this delightful land he spreads
His orient beams on herb, tree, fruit, and flower,
Glist'ring with dew; fragrant the fertile earth
After soft showers; and sweet the coming on
Of grateful ev'ning mild; then silent night
With this her solemn bird and this fair moon,
And these the gems of heaven, her starry train:
But neither breath of morn when she ascends
With charm of earliest birds, nor rising sun
On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower,
Glist'ring with dew, nor fragrance after showers,
Nor grateful ev'ning mild, nor silent night
With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon
Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet.
But who is this, what thing of sea or land,--
Female of sex it seems,--
That so bedeck'd, ornate, and gay,
Comes this way sailing
Like a stately ship
Of Tarsus, bound for th' isles
Of Javan or Gadire,
With all her bravery on, and tackle trim,
Sails fill'd, and streamers waving,
Courted by all the winds that hold them play,
An amber scent of odorous perfume
Her harbinger?
Thousands at his bidding speed,
And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait.
A poet soaring in the high reason of his fancies, with his garland and singing robes about him.
I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks out of the race where that immortal garland is to be run for, not without dust and heat.
When Israel was from bondage led,
Led by the Almighty's hand
From out of foreign land,
The great sea beheld and fled.
No clap of thunder in a fair frosty day could more astonish the world than our declaration of war against Holland in 1672.
But wild Ambition loves to slide, not stand,
And Fortune's ice prefers to Virtue's land.
Three poets, in three distant ages born,
Greece, Italy, and England did adorn.
The first in loftiness of thought surpass'd;
The next, in majesty; in both the last.
The force of Nature could no further go;
To make a third, she join'd the former two.
I 've often wish'd that I had clear,
For life, six hundred pounds a year;
A handsome house to lodge a friend;
A river at my garden's end;
A terrace walk, and half a rood
Of land set out to plant a wood.
I always like to begin a journey on Sundays, because I shall have the prayers of the Church to preserve all that travel by land or by water.
To die is landing on some silent shore
Where billows never break, nor tempests roar;
Ere well we feel the friendly stroke, 't is o'er.
From all who dwell below the skies
Let the Creator's praise arise;
Let the Redeemer's name be sung
Through every land, by every tongue.
There is a land of pure delight,
Where saints immortal reign;
Infinite day excludes the night,
And pleasures banish pain.
The sweetest garland to the sweetest maid.
Ask where's the North? At York 't is on the Tweed;
In Scotland at the Orcades; and there,
At Greenland, Zembla, or the Lord knows where.
Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land?
All fear, none aid you, and few understand.
Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand,
They rave, recite, and madden round the land.
And deal damnation round the land.
A gen'rous heart repairs a sland'rous tongue.
A pleasing land of drowsyhed it was,
Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye;
And of gay castles in the clouds that pass,
Forever flushing round a summer sky:
There eke the soft delights that witchingly
Instil a wanton sweetness through the breast,
And the calm pleasures always hover'd nigh;
But whate'er smack'd of noyance or unrest
Was far, far off expell'd from this delicious nest.
When Britain first, at Heaven's command,
Arose from out the azure main,
This was the charter of her land,
And guardian angels sung the strain:
Rule, Britannia! Britannia rules the waves!
Britons never shall be slaves.
