Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
read more

Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
Making it momentany as a sound,
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream,
Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!'
The jaws of darkness do devour it up:
So quick bright things come to confusion.

A little gale will soon disperse that cloud
And blow it to the source from whence it came.
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A little gale will soon disperse that cloud
And blow it to the source from whence it came.
Thy very beams will dry those vapors up,
For every cloud engenders not a storm.

O Cicero,
I have seen tempests when the scolding winds
Have rived the knotty oaks, and I read more

O Cicero,
I have seen tempests when the scolding winds
Have rived the knotty oaks, and I have seen
Th' ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam
To be exalted with the threat'ning clouds;
But never till to-night, never till now,
Did I go through a tempest dropping fire.

When clouds are seen wise men put on their cloaks;
When great leaves fall then winter is at hand.

When clouds are seen wise men put on their cloaks;
When great leaves fall then winter is at hand.

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks. Rage, blow,
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched read more

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks. Rage, blow,
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched our steeples, downed the cocks.

Methinks I am a prophet new inspired
And thus, expiring, do foretell of him:
His rash fierce read more

Methinks I am a prophet new inspired
And thus, expiring, do foretell of him:
His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last,
For violent fires soon burn out themselves;
Small show'rs last long, but sudden storms are short;
He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes;
With eager feeding doth choke the feeder;
Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.

Loud o'er my head though awful thunders roll,
And vivid lightnings flash from pole to pole,
Yet read more

Loud o'er my head though awful thunders roll,
And vivid lightnings flash from pole to pole,
Yet 'tis Thy voice, my God, that bids them fly,
Thy arm directs those lightnings through the sky.
Then let the good Thy mighty name revere,
And hardened sinners Thy just vengeance fear.

He used to raise a storm in a teapot.
[Lat., Excitabat enim fluctus in simpulo.]

He used to raise a storm in a teapot.
[Lat., Excitabat enim fluctus in simpulo.]

I have heard a greater storm in a boiling pot.

I have heard a greater storm in a boiling pot.