224 gtsi) Zin. 
What peremptoi-y, eagle-sighted eye 
Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, 
That is not blinded by her majesty ? 
Shakspeare. 
The glorious sun 
Stays in his course, and plays the alchymist, 
Turning, with splendour of his precious eye, 
The meagre, cloddy earth to glittering gold. 
Shakspeare. 
No ! I shall never lose the trace. 
Of what I've felt in this bright place ; 
And should my spirit's hope grow weak, — 
Should I, God ! forget thy power, 
This mighty scene again I'll seek, 
At the same calm and glowing hour ; 
And here at the sublimest shrine 
That nature ever reared to thee, 
Rekindle all that hope divine. 
And feel my immortality I 
Moore. 
