I have given this as an illustration, by no means as an instance, of
that particular excellence which I had in view, and in which
Shakespeare, even in his earliest as in his latest works, surpasses
all other poets. It is by this that he still gives a dignity and a
passion to the objects which he presents. Unaided by any previous
excitement, they burst upon us at once in life and in power.
Full many a glorious morning have I seen
_Flatter_ the mountain-tops with sovereign eye.
--_Sonnet_ 33.
Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul
Of the wide world dreaming on things to come,
Can yet the lease of my true love control,
Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom.
The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured,
And the sad augurs mock their own presage:
Incertainties now crown themselves assured,
And peace proclaims olives of endless age.
Now with the drops of this most balmy time
My love looks fresh: and Death to me subscribes,
Since, spite of him, I'll live in this poor rhyme,
While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes.
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