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Methinks I am a prophet new inspired
And thus, expiring, do foretell of him:
His rash fierce read more
Methinks I am a prophet new inspired
And thus, expiring, do foretell of him:
His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last,
For violent fires soon burn out themselves;
Small show'rs last long, but sudden storms are short;
He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes;
With eager feeding doth choke the feeder;
Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
O Cicero,
I have seen tempests when the scolding winds
Have rived the knotty oaks, and I read more
O Cicero,
I have seen tempests when the scolding winds
Have rived the knotty oaks, and I have seen
Th' ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam
To be exalted with the threat'ning clouds;
But never till to-night, never till now,
Did I go through a tempest dropping fire.
Merciful heaven,
Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak
read more
Merciful heaven,
Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak
Than the soft myrtle; but man, proud man,
Dressed in a little brief authority,
Most ignorant of what he's most assured
His glassy essence--like an angry ape
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
As makes the angels weep; who, with our spleens,
would all themselves laugh mortal.
A storm in a cream bowl.
- James Butler, first Duke of Ormonde,
A storm in a cream bowl.
- James Butler, first Duke of Ormonde,
For many years I was self-appointed inspector of snow-storms and
rain-storms and did my duty faithfully.
For many years I was self-appointed inspector of snow-storms and
rain-storms and did my duty faithfully.
Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks. Rage, blow,
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched read more
Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks. Rage, blow,
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched our steeples, downed the cocks.
Loud o'er my head though awful thunders roll,
And vivid lightnings flash from pole to pole,
Yet read more
Loud o'er my head though awful thunders roll,
And vivid lightnings flash from pole to pole,
Yet 'tis Thy voice, my God, that bids them fly,
Thy arm directs those lightnings through the sky.
Then let the good Thy mighty name revere,
And hardened sinners Thy just vengeance fear.
The earth is rocking, the skies are riven--
Jove in a passion, in god-like fashion,
Is breaking read more
The earth is rocking, the skies are riven--
Jove in a passion, in god-like fashion,
Is breaking the crystal urns of heaven.
