William Wordsworth: A BiographyCash, 1856 - 508 страница |
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Страница ix
... Picture of the Age - Pamphlet on Cintra -The Excursion - Lord Jeffrey - The Review in the Quarterly , by Charles Lamb - Revolutions in Literature - Unpolitical Ages- Wordsworth's Contemporaries - De Quincey - Robert Southey- Samuel ...
... Picture of the Age - Pamphlet on Cintra -The Excursion - Lord Jeffrey - The Review in the Quarterly , by Charles Lamb - Revolutions in Literature - Unpolitical Ages- Wordsworth's Contemporaries - De Quincey - Robert Southey- Samuel ...
Страница 10
... picture it to have been what Jean Paul would call a little mountain island , out of the way of all travellers ; there were no pedestrians , or students with their sketch - books to visit it then , in 1769 , the year before the birth of ...
... picture it to have been what Jean Paul would call a little mountain island , out of the way of all travellers ; there were no pedestrians , or students with their sketch - books to visit it then , in 1769 , the year before the birth of ...
Страница 11
... pictures on the walls , the china in the corner cupboard behind the glass , the house surrounded by its little orchard and pretty flower garden , dear to the painters of rural scenery . The May- pole in the centre of the village , the ...
... pictures on the walls , the china in the corner cupboard behind the glass , the house surrounded by its little orchard and pretty flower garden , dear to the painters of rural scenery . The May- pole in the centre of the village , the ...
Страница 19
... picture of his child life in the mountains of the Fichtelberge is one of the most sweetly natural paintings the fancy can conceive . With the humour and truth of Hogarth , and the homeliness of Wilkie , it unites the spiritual fancy of ...
... picture of his child life in the mountains of the Fichtelberge is one of the most sweetly natural paintings the fancy can conceive . With the humour and truth of Hogarth , and the homeliness of Wilkie , it unites the spiritual fancy of ...
Страница 24
... picture of the village inn , and the sports and gladness of boyhood . The wren singing in the church was an incident princi- pally subjective . Nothing was interesting to Words- worth even at that early age that was not subjective . In ...
... picture of the village inn , and the sports and gladness of boyhood . The wren singing in the church was an incident princi- pally subjective . Nothing was interesting to Words- worth even at that early age that was not subjective . In ...
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admiration affected ancient appear beautiful become beneath bright called character charm cloth Coleridge course critics deep delight doubt early earth especially faith feel felt forms frequently friends genius give hand heard heart heaven hills hope human idea illustration imagination impressions influence interest lake less light lines live look Lord meaning mental Milton mind moral mountain nature never objects once painting passed passion perhaps persons poems Poet Poet's poetry poor portrait present principles reader relation remarkable rest Review RICHARD COBDEN round seems seen sense side soul sound speak spirit stand suffering sympathy things thought tion true truth turn verse village voice walk waters whole wild winds woman wonderful Wordsworth worth writings young
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Страница 366 - O FRIEND ! I know not which way I must look For comfort, being, as I am, opprest, To think that now our life is only drest For show ; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook, Or groom ! We must run glittering like a brook In the open sunshine, or we are unblest : The wealthiest man among us is the best : No grandeur now in nature or in book Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense, This is idolatry ; and these we adore : Plain living and high thinking are no more : The homely beauty of the good old cause...
Страница 332 - The wind, the tempest roaring high, The tumult of a tropic sky, Might well be dangerous food For him, a Youth to whom was given So much of earth — so much of Heaven, And such impetuous blood.
Страница 363 - Milton ! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Страница 363 - Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart: Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way, In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
Страница 17 - When we had given our bodies to the wind, And all the shadowy banks on either side Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still The rapid line of motion, then at once Have I, reclining back upon my heels, Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffs Wheeled by me — even as if the earth had rolled With visible motion her diurnal round!
Страница 377 - I trust is their destiny, to console the afflicted, to add sunshine to daylight by making the happy happier, to teach the young and the gracious of every age, to see, to think and feel, and therefore to become more actively and securely virtuous; this is their office, which I trust they will faithfully perform long after we (that is, all that is mortal of us) are mouldered in our graves.
Страница 326 - ... During the first year that Mr. Wordsworth and I were neighbours, our conversations turned frequently on the two cardinal points of poetry, the power of exciting the sympathy of the reader by a faithful adherence to the truth of nature, and the power of giving the interest of novelty by the modifying colours of imagination.
Страница 47 - The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Страница 324 - Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears ; To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
Страница 166 - There sometimes doth a leaping fish Send through the tarn a lonely cheer; The crags repeat the raven's croak, In symphony austere; Thither the rainbow comes — the cloud — And mists that spread the flying shroud; And sunbeams; and the sounding blast, That, if it could, would hurry past; But that enormous barrier holds it fast.