Middlemarch - 15

by George Eliot in English Fiction Stories

CHAPTER XV. “Black eyes you have left, you say, Blue eyes fail to draw you;Yet you seem more rapt to-day, Than of old we saw you. “Oh, I track the fairest fair Through new haunts of ...Read Morehere and echoes there Guide me to my treasure: “Lo! she turns—immortal youth Wrought to mortal stature,Fresh as starlight’s aged truth— Many-namèd Nature!” A great historian, as he insisted on calling himself, who had the happiness to be dead a hundred and twenty years ago, and so to take his place among the colossi whose huge legs Read Less