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It might be the sense of the majestic hands of Man upon the locks of the last doors of life; large and terrible hands, like those of that youth who poises the stone above Florence, and looks out upon the circle of the hills.
This he probes, this he tampers with, this he poises, with all its incalculable weight of thought and feeling, in his hands; and at the same time calms the throbbing pulses of his own heart, by keeping his eye ever fixed on the face of nature.
The flying spear lights where the armour rises high above the shoulder, and, forcing a way through the shield's rim, ceased not till it drew blood from mighty Turnus. At this Turnus long poises the spear-shaft with its sharp steel head, and hurls it on Pallas with these words: See thou if our weapon have not a keener point.
Bream, sunning themselves on the shallow margins of the other side, give a sinuous swish to their tails and dart up. A yellow perch poises, slips forward a yard, poises again and then thinking the place safe, comes forward for his share.
Its virtue was excessive thickness such as a writer should pray for protected also by powerful hairiness largely admired by those with whom it is restricted to the head. Unhappily for Nicholas, the peremptory poises of nature struck a line with him, and this was his line of flotation.
I seemed to myself like a liberated bird that had been hatched in an aviary, who now, after his first soar of freedom, poises himself in the upper air.
Just as a wave poises at its height before breaking upon the shore, it hung at every pulse-beat, and then seemed to fall over with a sickening thud. I arose, and acting still, spoke impatiently of her brother. Tears sprang to her eyes. Such divine dissimulation, I thought too good for earth. She turned to leave the room, and I did not stay her.
And the witch-wife sang this song: "The green waving fields Are hidden behind The flash of the shields, And the rush of the banners That toss in the wind. But Skade's eagle eyes Pierce the wall of the steel, And behold from the skies What the earth would conceal; O'er the rush of the banners She poises her wing, And marks with a shadow The brow of the King.
One is a fatal trap, an ambuscade, and the other a safe harbor and an innocuous haven. But mystery allures him. He poises, undecided. That is the present. That, my friends, is the Present! What will he do? WHAT will he do? What will he DO? Memories of the past are whispering to him: 'Choose the flower. Light on the posy. Here we clearly see the influence of the past upon the present.
That sort of susceptibility is luckily rare. A world of inflammable lovers of the Romeo and Juliet type would very soon end in barbarism and misery. These are great mysteries, of course. Magic signs. I don't know in what the sign consisted in this case. In certain lights, in certain poises of head it suggested tragic sorrow. Or it might have been her wavy hair.