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C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.

Visions

Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimæras dire.

Milton.

  • Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!
  • Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul.
  • Gray.

  • And like a passing thought, she fled
  • In light away.
  • Burns.

  • Fond man! the vision of a moment made!
  • Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade!
  • Young.

  • But shapes that come not at an earthly call,
  • Will not depart when mortal voices bid.
  • Wordsworth.

  • My thoughts by night are often filled
  • With visions false as fair:
  • For in the past alone, I build
  • My castles in the air.
  • Thos. Love Peacock.

  • The people’s prayer, the glad diviner’s theme!
  • The young men’s vision, and the old men’s dream!
  • Dryden.

  • O visions ill foreseen! Better had I
  • Liv’d ignorant of future, so had borne
  • By part of evil only.
  • Milton.

  • An angel stood and met my gaze,
  • Through the low doorway of my tent;
  • The tent is struck, the vision stays;
  • I only know she came and went.
  • Lowell.

  • It is a dream, sweet child! a waking dream,
  • A blissful certainty, a vision bright,
  • Of that rare happiness, which even on earth
  • Heaven gives to those it loves.
  • Longfellow.

  • Hence the fool’s paradise, the statesman’s scheme,
  • The air-built castle, and the golden dream,
  • The maid’s romantic wish, the chemist’s flame,
  • And poet’s vision of eternal fame.
  • Pope.

  • Our revels now are ended. These, our actors,
  • As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
  • Are melted into air, into thin air;
  • And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
  • The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
  • The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
  • Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
  • And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
  • Leave not a rack behind.
  • Shakespeare.

  • Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
  • Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
  • And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
  • Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
  • An angel, writing in a book of gold;
  • Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
  • And to the presence in the room he said—
  • “What writest thou?” The Vision raised its head,
  • And, with a look made all of sweet accord,
  • Answered, “The names of those who love the Lord.”
  • Leigh Hunt.