Lives of the Illustrious: (the Biographical Magazine)., Том 3

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J. Passmore Edwards, 1852

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Сторінка 109 - LIFE IN LONDON : or, the Day and Night Scenes of Jerry Hawthorn, Esq., and his Elegant Friend, Corinthian Tom.
Сторінка 263 - KNOWING within myself the manner in which this Poem has been produced, it is not without a feeling of regret that I make it public. What manner I mean, will be quite clear to the reader, who must soon perceive great inexperience, immaturity, and every error denoting a feverish attempt, rather than a deed accomplished.
Сторінка 167 - Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard and the sea ; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free.
Сторінка 273 - Nature, that hateth emptiness, Allows of penetration less, And therefore must make room Where greater spirits come. What field of all the civil war Where his were not the deepest scar ? And Hampton shows what part He had of wiser art, Where, twining subtle fears with hope, He wove a net of such a scope That Charles himself might chase To Carisbrook's narrow case...
Сторінка 273 - He nothing common did, or mean, Upon that memorable scene, But with his keener eye The axe's edge did try ; Nor called the gods with vulgar spite To vindicate his helpless right, But bowed his comely head Down, as upon a bed.
Сторінка 268 - BRIGHT star ! would I were steadfast as thou art— Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night. And watching, with eternal lids apart. Like Nature's patient sleepless Eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task Of pure ablution round earth's human shores...
Сторінка 265 - Praise or blame has but a momentary effect on the man whose love of beauty in the abstract makes him a severe critic on his own works. My own domestic criticism has given me pain without comparison beyond what " Blackwood" or the "Quarterly" could possibly inflict : and also when I feel I am right, no external praise can give me such a glow as my own solitary reperception and ratification of what is fine.
Сторінка 266 - This is a mere matter of the moment : I think I shall be among the English Poets after my death. Even as a matter of present interest, the attempt to crush me in The Quarterly has only brought me more into notice, and it is a common expression among bookmen, ' I wonder The Quarterly should cut its own throat...
Сторінка 167 - midst shadowy elms ascending, Whence the sweet chimes proclaim the hallow'd day ! The halls from old heroic ages grey Pour their fair children forth ; and hamlets low, With whose thick orchard-blooms the soft winds play, Send out their inmates in a happy flow, Like a freed vernal stream. I may not tread...
Сторінка 68 - Its remains still exist. I make to it an annual visit. I carry my children to it, to teach them the hardships endured by the generations which have gone before them.

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