|As the moths around a taper,|
As the bees around a rose,
As the gnats around a vapour,
So the spirits group and close
Round about a holy childhood, as if drinking its repose.
E. B. BrowningA Child Asleep.
|But sad as angels for the good mans sin,|
Weep to record, and blush to give it in.
CampbellPleasures of Hope. Pt. II. L. 357.
|What though my winged hours of bliss have been|
Like angel visits, few and far between.
CampbellPleasures of Hope. Pt. II. L. 375.
|Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee.|
Nathaniel CottonTo-morrow. L. 36.
|When one that holds communion with the skies|
Has filld his urn where these pure waters rise,
And once more mingles with us meaner things,
Tis een as if an angel shook his wings.
CowperCharity. L. 439.
| What is the question now placed before society with the glib assurance which to me is most astonishing? That question is this: Is man an ape or an angel? I, my lord, I am on the side of the angels. I repudiate with indignation and abhorrence those new fangled theories.|
Benj. DisraeliSpeech at Oxford Diocesan Conference. Nov. 25, 1864.
|In merest prudence men should teach|
* * * * * *
That science ranks as monstrous things
Two pairs of upper limbs; so wings
Een Angels wings!are fictions.
Austin DobsonA Fairy Tale.
|Let old Timotheus yield the prize|
Or both divide the crown;
He raisd a mortal to the skies
She drew an angel down.
DrydenAlexanders Feast. Last St.
|Non Angli, sed Angeli.|
Not Angles, but Angels.
Attributed to Gregory the Great on seeing British captives for sale at Rome.
| Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.|
Hebrews. XIII. 2.
|Unblessd thy hand!if in this low disguise|
Wander, perhaps, some inmate of the skies.
HomerOdyssey. Bk. XVII. L. 570. Popes trans.
|But all Gods angels come to us disguised:|
Sorrow and sickness, poverty and death,
One after other lift their frowning masks,
And we behold the Seraphs face beneath,
All radiant with the glory and the calm
Of having looked upon the front of God.
LowellOn the Death of a Friends Child. L. 21.
|In this dim world of clouding cares,|
We rarely know, till wildered eyes
See white wings lessening up the skies,
The Angels with us unawares.
Gerald MasseyThe Ballad of Babe Christabel.
|How sweetly did they float upon the wings|
Of silence through the empty-vaulted night,
At every fall smoothing the raven down
Of darkness till it smiled!
MiltonComus. L. 249.
| The helmed Cherubim,|
And sworded Seraphim,
Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displayd.
MiltonHymn on the Nativity. L. 112.
|As far as angels ken.|
MiltonParadise Lost. Bk. I. L. 59.
| For God will deign|
To visit oft the dwellings of just men
Delighted, and with frequent intercourse
Thither will send his winged messengers
On errants of supernal grace.
MiltonParadise Lost. Bk. VII. L. 569.
|Then too when angel voices sung|
The mercy of their God, and strung
Their harps to hail, with welcome sweet,
That moment watched for by all eyes.
MooreLoves of the Angels. Third Angels Story.
|Men would be angels, angels would be gods.|
PopeEssay on Man. Ep. I. L. 126.
|A guardian angel oer his life presiding,|
Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing.
Saml RogersHuman Life. L. 353.
|All angel now, and little less than all,|
While still a pilgrim in this world of ours.
ScottLord of the Isles. (Referring to Harriet, Duchess of Buccleugh.)
|And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!|
Hamlet. Act V. Sc. 2. L. 371.
|Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.|
Macbeth. Act IV. Sc. 3. L. 22.
|How oft do they their silver bowers leave|
To come to succour us that succour want!
SpenserFaerie Queene. Bk. II. Canto VIII. St. 2.
|Around our pillows golden ladders rise,|
And up and down the skies,
With winged sandals shod,
The angels come, and go, the Messengers of God!
Nor, though they fade from us, do they depart
It is the childly heart
We walk as heretofore,
Adown their shining ranks, but see them nevermore.
R. H. StoddardHymn to the Beautiful. St. 3.
|Sweet souls around us watch us still,|
Press nearer to our side;
Into our thoughts, into our prayers,
With gentle helpings glide.
Harriet Beecher StoweThe Other World.
|I have no angels left|
Now, Sweet, to pray to:
Where you have made your shrine
They are away to.
They have struck Heavens tent,
And gone to cover you:
Whereso you keep your state
Heaven is pitched over you.
Francis ThompsonA Carrier Song. St. 4.
| For all we know|
Of what the Blessèd do above
Is, that they sing, and that they love.
Waller. (Quoted by Wordsworth.)
|What know we of the Blest above|
But that they sing, and that they love?
WordsworthScene on the Lake of Brienz. (Quoted from Waller.)