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THE MOST EXTENSIVE COLLECTION OF QUOTATIONS ON THE INTERNET |
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The sun was set; the night came on apace, And falling dews bewet around the place; The bat takes airy rounds on leathern wings, And the hoarse owl his woeful dirges sings. - John Gay, Shepherd's Week--Wednesday; or, The Dumps Far different there from all that charm'd before, The various terrors of that horrid shore; . . . . Those matted woods where birds forget to sing. But silent bats in drowsy clusters cling. - Oliver Goldsmith, The Deserted Village (l. 345) Ere the bat hath flown His cloistered flight, ere to black Hecate's summons The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done A deed of dreadful note. - William Shakespeare, Macbeth (Macbeth at III, ii) On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily. - William Shakespeare, The Tempest (Ariel at V, i)
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