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Quotes by Samuel Rogers
With deep affection And recollection I often think of Those Shandon bells, Whose sounds so wild would, In the days of childhood, Fling round my cradle Their magic spells. FATHER PROUT (Francis Mahony). The Bells of Shandon. And the Sabbath bell, That over wood and wild and mountain dell Wanders so far, chasing all thoughts unholy With sounds most musical, most melancholy.— filed under Bells
The Good are better made by Ill, As odours crushed are sweeter still.— filed under Adversity
The Good are better made by Ill, As odours crushed are sweeter still!— filed under Character
Pointing to such, well might Cornelia say, When the rich casket shone in bright array, "These are my Jewels!" Well of such as he, When Jesus spake, well might the language be, "Suffer these little ones to come to me!"— filed under Childhood
I am in Rome! Oft as the morning ray Visits these eyes, waking at once I cry, Whence this excess of joy? What has befallen me? And from within a thrilling voice replies, Thou art in Rome! A thousand busy thoughts Rush on my mind, a thousand images; And I spring up as girt to run a race!— filed under Cities-Venice
Mine be a cot beside the hill; A beehive's hum shall soothe my ear; A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall, shall linger near.— filed under Country Life
Not dead, but gone before.— filed under Death
Prayer. To fireside happiness, to hours of ease Blest with that charm, the certainty to please.— filed under Honesty
Reply to the Passionate Shepherd. Oh! she was good as she was fair. None-none on earth above her! As pure in thought as angels are, To know her was to love her.— filed under Love
Those that he loved so long and sees no more, Loved and still loves-not dead, but gone before, He gathers round him.— filed under Love
Go-you may call it madness, folly, You shall not chase my gloom away. There's such a charm in melancholy, I would not, if I could, be gay!— filed under Melancholy
Oh, if you knew the pensive pleasure That fills my bosom when I sigh, You would not rob me of a treasure Monarchs are too poor to buy.— filed under Melancholy
Hail, memory, hail! in thy exhaustless mine From age to age unnumbered treasures shine! Thought and her shadowy brood thy call obey, And Place and Time are subject to thy sway!— filed under Memory
Day glimmer'd in the east, and the white Moon Hung like a vapor in the cloudless sky.— filed under Monuments
The soul of music slumbers in the shell, Till waked and kindled by the Master's spell; And feeling hearts-touch them but lightlypour A thousand melodies unheard before!— filed under Music
As though I lived to write, and wrote to live.— filed under Occupations-Authorship
That very law which moulds a tear, And bids it trickle from its source, That law preserves the earth a sphere, And guides the planets in their course.— filed under Providence
Elizabeth. For who, alas! has lived, Nor in the watches of the night recalled Words he has wished unsaid and deeds undone.— filed under Regret
Then never less alone than when alone.— filed under Solitude
Long on the wave reflected lustres play.— filed under Sunset
After Hour. To vanish in the chinks that Time has made.— filed under Time
Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the villagegreen, With magic tints to harmonize the scene. Stilled is the hum that through the hamlet broke When round the ruins of their ancient oak The peasants flocked to hear the minstrel play, And games and carols closed the busy day.— filed under Twilight
Sweet drop of pure and pearly light; In thee the rays of Virtue shine; More calmly clear, more mildly bright, Than any gem that gilds the mine.— filed under Virtue
That old hereditary bore, The steward.— filed under Bores