But the majestic river floated on, Out of the mist and
hum of that low land, Into the frosty
starlight. Matthew Arnold Poems: A New Edition,'Sohrab and Rustum', l.875^7.
Sob, heavy world, Sob as you spin Mantled in mist,
remote from the happy. W(ystan) H(ugh) Auden ^6 The Age of Anxiety, pt.4,'The Dirge'.
O pure of heart! thou need'st not ask of me What this strong
music in the soul may be! What, and wherein
it doth exist, This light, this
glory, this fair luminous mist, This beautiful and
beauty-making power. Samuel Taylor Coleridge 'Dejection: An Ode', stanza 5.
You stars that reigned at my nativity, Whose influence
hath allotted death and hell, Now draw up Faustus
like a foggy mist, Into the entrails
of yon labouring cloud, That when you vomit
forth into the air, My limbs may issue
from your smoky mouths, So that my soul may
but ascend to heaven. Christopher Marlowe c.1592 Doctor Faustus (published1604), act 5, sc.2.
must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a
tall ship and a star to steer her by, And the wheel's
kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking, And a grey mist on
the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking. John Edward Masefield 'Sea Fever'.
Theyare sped; And when they list,
their lean and flashy songs 578 Grate on their
scrannel Pipes of wretched straw, The hungry sheep
look up, and are not fed, But swollen with
wind, and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and
foul contagion spread, Besides what the
grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours
apace, and nothing said, But that two-handed
engine at the door, Stands ready to
smite once, and smite no more. John Milton Lycidas, l.122^31.
Unless we change our ways and our direction, our greatness as a
nation will soon be a footnote in the history books, a
distant memory of an offshore island, lost in the mist of
time like Camelot, remembered kindly for its noble past.
Margaret HildaThatcher, Baroness Thatcher General election campaign speech, Bolton, 2 May.
She was cut off fromthe past and therefore did not live in the present. But
suddenly, as she stood close against a pine tree and
breathed in its sharp, bitter scent, a clear space opened to her
childhood, as though a wind had sprung fromthesea,
clearing a mist.It wasnot a memory from the past, it
was the past itself, as alive, as real; and she knew that she
and the child of forty years ago were the same person. D(onald) M(itchell) Thomas TheWhite Hotel, ch.4.