Chambers's Cyclopædia of English Literature: A History, Critical and Biographical, of British Authors, with Specimens of Their Writings, Том 2Robert Chambers, Robert Carruthers W. & R. Chambers, 1876 |
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... fear . It did not damp the ardour of Scott or Byron , or the fancy of Moore , and it has not pre- vented the poetry of Wordsworth from gradually working its way into public favour . If we have not the chivalry and romance of the ...
... fear . It did not damp the ardour of Scott or Byron , or the fancy of Moore , and it has not pre- vented the poetry of Wordsworth from gradually working its way into public favour . If we have not the chivalry and romance of the ...
Страница 2
... fear of want , and enabled to pursue his favourite and unremitting studies . An opportunity of displaying one branch of his acquirements was afforded in 1768. The king of Denmark in that year visited England , and brought with him an ...
... fear of want , and enabled to pursue his favourite and unremitting studies . An opportunity of displaying one branch of his acquirements was afforded in 1768. The king of Denmark in that year visited England , and brought with him an ...
Страница 4
... fear , And mingle with the dead : While conscience , like a faithful friend , Shall through the gloomy vale attend , And cheer our dying breath ; Shall , when all other comforts cease , Like a kind angel , whisper peace , And smooth the ...
... fear , And mingle with the dead : While conscience , like a faithful friend , Shall through the gloomy vale attend , And cheer our dying breath ; Shall , when all other comforts cease , Like a kind angel , whisper peace , And smooth the ...
Страница 8
... fear of being silent makes us mute . We sometimes think we could a speech produce Much to the purpose , if our ... fears away ! ' The meek intelligence of those dear eyes- Blest be the art that can immortalise , The art that baffles ...
... fear of being silent makes us mute . We sometimes think we could a speech produce Much to the purpose , if our ... fears away ! ' The meek intelligence of those dear eyes- Blest be the art that can immortalise , The art that baffles ...
Страница 10
... fear to break ; What is it but a map of busy life , Its fluctuations , and its vast concerns ? Here runs the mountainous and craggy ridge That tempts ambition . On the summit see The seals of office glitter in his eyes ; He climbs , he ...
... fear to break ; What is it but a map of busy life , Its fluctuations , and its vast concerns ? Here runs the mountainous and craggy ridge That tempts ambition . On the summit see The seals of office glitter in his eyes ; He climbs , he ...
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Chambers's Cyclopædia of English Literature: A History, Critical and ..., Том 1 Robert Chambers,Robert Carruthers Приказ није доступан - 2018 |
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admiration afterwards ancient appeared beauty born breath bright Burns Byron caliph character Charles Lamb charm clouds dark dear death deep delight died earth Edinburgh Edinburgh Review edition England English eyes fair fancy father fear feeling flowers frae French Revolution genius grave green hand happy Harriet Lee hath heard heart heaven hill honour hope hour Italy John labour lady Lady Morgan light literary live look Lord Lord Byron MATTHEW GREGORY LEWIS mind moral morning mountain native nature never night novel o'er passion poem poet poetical poetry published round says scene Scotland Scott Scottish seemed shew Sir Walter Scott sleep smile song soon soul Southey spirit style sweet tale taste tears thee thou thought tion Twas Vathek verse voice volumes wandering Whig wild William wind writing wrote young youth
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Страница 64 - SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love. A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me...
Страница 65 - Is lightened : — that serene and blessed mood, In which the affections gently lead us on. — Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul : While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
Страница 140 - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: — Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific — and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise — Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
Страница 134 - Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know, • Such harmonious madness From my lips would flow, The world should listen then, as I am listening now.
Страница 126 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roll ! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore; — upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain...
Страница 139 - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel ; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease ; For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.
Страница 142 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.
Страница 142 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
Страница 142 - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him ! But half of our heavy task was done When the clock struck the hour for retiring, And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Страница 155 - Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, "What writest thou?" — The vision raised its head, And, with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, " The names of those who love the Lord." "And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so," Replied the angel. — Abou spoke more low, But cheerily still; and said, " I pray thee, then, Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.