The harder his task, the more he exults in his power of success.

"Yes, my Brethren, the day will assuredly come, when the servant so signally faithful will be called to a reward, surpassing the utmost reach of our conception, by the voice of his Righteous Masterthen, and then only, will praise be fully proportioned to his transcendant merit; when this consummate Christian is raised to glory by the glorified Messiah, when his pure spirit exults in the commendation of his GOD.

He exults in utterance itself, caring little for the mode, which, however, the law of his indwelling melody guides though never compels.

It is enough for our purpose, therefore, to point out two facts: that Elizabeth, with all her vanity and inconsistency, steadily loved England and England's greatness; and that she inspired all her people with the unbounded patriotism which exults in Shakespeare, and with the personal devotion which finds a voice in the Faery Queen.

When the victory is won, he exults in a paean of victory as soul-stirring as the Song of Deborah.

And know I've bought the best champagne from Brookes, From liberal Brookes, whose speculative skill Is hasty credit, and a distant bill: Who, nurs'd in clubs, disdains a vulgar trade: Exults to trust, and blushes to be paid' built and opened the present club-house in St. James's Street, and thither the members of Almack's migrated.

When haughty guilt exults with impious joy, Mistake shall blast, or accident destroy; Weak man, with erring rage, may throw the dart, But heav'n shall guide it to the guilty heart.

"Right gaily our bark's glided over the ocean, Bright nature we've viewed in majestic array; But our own native shores we greet with emotion, For the heart of a Briton exults in her sway.

But the poet cultivated becomes a stockholder in both companies,say Mr. Curfew,in the Curfew stock, and in the humanity stock; and, in the last, exults as much in the demonstration of the unsoundness of Curfew as his interest in the former gives him pleasure in the currency of Curfew.

And now moves he O'er the plain in silv'ry glory, And the plain in him exults, And the rivers from the plain, And the streamlets from the mountain, Shout with joy, exclaiming: "Brother, Brother, take thy brethren with thee.

The heart of man still beats and bounds, exults and suffers, from causes which are only less salient and conspicuous because they are more mixed and diversified.

The body exults; the body cries out that nothing on earth matters except climate.

She instantly exults with joy, and regards this sign as an assurance of the approaching return of her husband.

Who now but Palamon exults with joy?

He therefore acquaints us roundly, that the corruption of a poet was the generation of a critic; exults a little over the memory of Rymer's "Edgar," a tragedy just reeking from damnation; and hints at the difference which the public is likely to experience between the present royal historiographer and him whose room he occupied.

Now with the Spear within his evil grasp Klingsor exults, and mockingly does tell How his black fingers soon will hold the Grail."

Like a Hecate, she exults in heat.

He exults in the consciousness of abounding resources.

Such is the triumphant language with which a critick exults over the misery of an irregular poet, and exults commonly without resistance or reply.

Such is the triumphant language with which a critick exults over the misery of an irregular poet, and exults commonly without resistance or reply.

As for women, as for the mistresses of our hearts, who has not learnt that the links of passion are fragile as they are glittering; and that the bosom on which we have reposed with idolatry all our secret sorrows and sanguine hopes, eventually becomes the very heart that exults in our misery and baffles our welfare?

Then he trod the deck of his little cruiser with some such feelings as the man who exults in his strength and rejoices in his youth.

No more for me such pleasures thrilling, All that rejoices, that has life, All that exults,brings but despondence To one past passion as past strife, All is but prose to such as he, Wearied unto satiety.

Storms only, brought my youthful morning red, And night of soul and wilderness of pains All in my breast is hushed and numb and dead, The pulsing fever stopped within my veins; Yet here, where Nature winds a wreath for me, The arms stretch forth,the weary glance devours And the arrested soul exults and sings, The fields grow green and the syringa flowers! NADSON.

'Insults': exults.