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Updated: August 24, 2024
Whate'er Lorraine light touch'd with soft'ning hue, Or savage Rosa dash'd, or learned Poussin drew. He turns aside to view a country gentleman's seat with eager looks, thinking it may contain some of the rich products of art.
For at the front, and through the camps, in countless tents, stood the regimental, brigade and division hospitals; while everywhere amid the land, in or near cities, rose clusters of huge, white-wash'd, crowded, one-story wooden barracks; and there ruled agony with bitter scourge, yet seldom brought a cry; and there stalk'd death by day and night along the narrow aisles between the rows of cots, or by the blankets on the ground, and touch'd lightly many a poor sufferer, often with blessed, welcome touch.
Blest satyrist, who touch'd the mean so true, As shew'd vice had his hate and pity too. Blest courtier! who could King and Country please, Yet sacred keep his friendship, and his ease. Blest peer! his great forefathers ev'ry grace Reflecting, and reflected in his race; Where other Buckhursts, other Dorsets thine. And patriots still, or poets deck the line Mr.
I muse on joy that will not cease, Pure spaces clothed in living beams, Pure lilies of eternal peace, Whose odors haunt my dreams; And, stricken by an angel's hand, This mortal armour that I wear, This weight and size, this heart and eyes, Are touch'd, are turn'd to finest air. The clouds are broken in the sky, And thro' the mountain-walls A rolling organ-harmony Swells up, and shakes and falls.
Where'er his fingers move his eye can trace The once rude ivory softening into grace Pliant as wax that, on Hymettus' hill, Melts in the sunbeam, it obeys his skill; At every touch some different aspect shows, And still, the oftener touch'd the lovelier grows.
Thus thou shalt overcome his evil by thy good. Or, in other words, as fire melts the hardest metals, so thy kindness shall melt his anger. Thus Parnell "So artists melt the sullen ore of lead, By heaping coals of fire upon its head. Touch'd by the warmth, the metal teams to glow, And pure from dress, the silver tang below."
I was washing, I was starching, I was scouring, I was quilting God help me! I never saw it I never touch'd it! would I had been a centinel, a bandy-legg'd drummer, a trumpeter, a trumpeter's wife, was the general cry and lamentation in every street and corner of Strasburg.
'Twas I that murder'd her Thou lyest thou durst as well be damn'd as touch her, She was all sacred; and that impious Hand That had profanely touch'd her, Had wither'd from the Body. I lov'd her I ador'd her, and could I, Could I approach her with unhallowed thoughts? No, no, I durst not But as devoutest Pilgrims do the Shrine.
Thus through the livelong day till the sun into ocean descended, Feasted the Gods, nor to any was wanting his share of the banquet, Nor of the beautiful harp that was touch'd by the hand of Apollo, Nor of the song of the Muses with sweet voice singing alternate.
Getting back safe home at last, like many another sailor, I might have sung "'Twas in the good ship Rover I sail'd the world around, For full ten years and over I ne'er touch'd British ground. And when at length I landed, I could not long remain; Found all my friends were stranded, So went to sea again."
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