Some lay in dead men's sculls, and in those holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept
(As t'were in scorn of eyes) reflecting gems,
That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep.
Again, speaking of Olivia:—
O when mine eyes did see Olivia first,
That instant was I turned into a hart;
And my fond thoughts, like fell and cruel hounds,
Ever since pursue me.
In his Lucrece there is a beautiful simile:—
And dying eyes gleam'd forth their ashy lights,
Like dying coals burnt out in tedious nights.
In that graphic description, previous to the battle of Agincourt, this spirit describes the King as visiting the camp, and says:—
Upon his royal face there is no note
How dread an army hath surrounded him,
Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour
Unto the weary and all-watched night;
But freshly looks, and overbears attaint
With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty,
That every wretch, pining, and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks;
A largess, universal like the sun,
His liberal eye doth give to every one—
Thawing cold fear.
The singular language and thought in Midsummer Night's Dream, reflects on our subject. The poet, from his vast treasury of imagery, speaks of the fiery light of the glowworm's eyes.
Be kind and courteous to this gentleman,
Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes;
Feed him with apricots and dewberries,
With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries;
The honey bags steal from the humble bees,
And for night tapers crop their waxen thighs,
