Sublime

we become conscious of the feeling of an inner impulse of activity in the soul;

Je n'ai plus d'intérieur, De passion, de chaleur ; Bientôt je me résume À mon propre volume.

“Angele Dei, qui custos es mei,” he murmured. “Me tibi commissum pietate superna; Hodie illumina, custodi, rege, et guberna.”

You do look, my son, in a moved sort,209 As if you were dismay’d: be cheerful, sir. Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all

In my solitude you haunt me / With reveries of days gone by. / In my solitude you taunt me / With memories that never die