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Virtue cannot dwell with slaves, nor reign O'er those who cower to take a tyrant's yoke.

William C. Bryant

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William C. Bryant
Reign
Slaves
Tyrants
Slave
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Virtue
Yoke
Cannot
Tyrant
Take
Servitude
Dwell

More quotes by William C. Bryant

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Is not thy home among the flowers?
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A melancholy sound is in the air, A deep sigh in the distance, a shrill wail Around my dwelling. 'Tis the Wind of night.
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Ah! never shall the land forget How gushed the life-blood of her brave -
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Thou who wouldst see the lovely and the wild Mingled in harmony on Nature's face, Ascend our rocky mountains. Let thy foot Fail not with weariness, for on their tops The beauty and the majesty of earth, Spread wide beneath, shall make thee to forget The steep and toilsome way.
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A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty.
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And the blue gentian-flower, that, in the breeze, Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.
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The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.
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Look on this beautiful world, and read the truth in her fair page.
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[Thanatopsis] was written in 1817, when Bryant was 23. Had he died then, the world would have thought it had lost a great poet. But he lived on.
William C. Bryant
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The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will chase His favourite phantom yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come, And make their bed with thee.
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When April winds Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush Of scarlet flowers. The tulip tree, high up, Opened in airs of June her multitude Of golden chalices to humming-birds And silken-wing'd insects of the sky.
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Flowers spring up unsown and die ungathered.
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Thou blossom bright with autumn dew, And colored with the heaven's own blue.
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Follow thou thy choice.
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The press, important as is its office, is but the servant of the human intellect, and its ministry is for good or for evil, according to the character of those who direct it. The press is a mill which grinds all that is put into its hopper. Fill the hopper with poisoned grain, and it will grind it to meal, but there is death in the bread.
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Self-interest is the most ingenious and persuasive of all the agents that deceive our consciences, while by means of it our unhappy and stubborn prejudices operate in their greatest force.
William C. Bryant
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Poetry is the eloquence of verse.
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Come when the rains Have glazed the snow and clothed the trees with ice, While the slant sun of February pours Into the bowers a flood of light. Approach! The incrusted surface shall upbear thy steps And the broad arching portals of the grove Welcome thy entering.
William C. Bryant
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War, like all other situations of danger and of change, calls forth the exertion of admirable intellectual qualities and great virtues, and it is only by dwelling on these, and keeping out of sight the sufferings and sorrows, and all the crimes and evils that follow in its train, that it has its glory in the eyes of men.
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The little wind-flower, whose just opened eye Is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at.
William C. Bryant