The Knight's bones are dust,
And his good sword rust;
His soul is with the saints, I trust.
On Taking Leave of—. 1817.
To know, to esteem, to love—and then to part,
Makes up life's tale to many a feeling heart!
Cologne.
The river Rhine, it is well known,
Doth wash your city of Cologne;
But tell me, nymphs! what power divine
Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine?
Wallenstein.
Part i. Act ii. Sc. 4.
The intelligible forms of ancient poets,
The fair humanities of old religion,
The power, the beauty, and the majesty,
That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain, Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring,
Or chasms and watery depths; all these have vanished;
They live no longer in the faith of reason.