Those mighty spirits drink the dregs of life.
F. W. H. Myers (The Implicit Promise of Immortality).
It will be observed that Myers, like Swinburne, handled the old heroic couplet in a masterly manner, undreamt of by Pope, Dryden, and their generation.
God’s works—paint any one, and count it crime
To let a truth slip. Don’t object, “His works
Are here already; nature is complete:
Suppose you reproduce her (which you can’t)
There’s no advantage! You must beat her then.”
For, don’t you mark? we’re made so that we love