The oracles are dumb,

No voice or hideous hum

Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving.

Apollo from his shrine

Can no more divine,

With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving.

No nightly trance or breathed spell

Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.

John Milton (1608-1674): Hymn on Christ's Nativity. Line 173.

Creation sleeps! 'T is as the general pulse

Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause,—

An awful pause! prophetic of her end.

Edward Young (1684-1765): Night thoughts. Night i. Line 23.

Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life,

The evening beam that smiles the clouds away,

And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray!

Lord Byron 1788-1824: The Bride of Abydos. Canto ii. Stanza 20.

O my prophetic soul!

My uncle!

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Hamlet. Act i. Sc. 5.

Till old experience do attain

To something like prophetic strain.

John Milton (1608-1674): Il Penseroso. Line 173.