Chambers's Cyclopaedia of English Literature: A History Critical and Biographical of Authors in the English Tongue from the Earliest Times Till the Present Day, with Specimens of Their Writing, Том 3W. & R. Chambers, 1903 |
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Сторінка 7
... hour was thine- Thou ' st had thy will ! By tairn and rill , The night - birds all that hour were still . But now they are jubilant anew , From cliff and tower , tu - whoo ! tu - whoo ! Tu - whoo ! tu - whoo ! from wood and fell ! Here ...
... hour was thine- Thou ' st had thy will ! By tairn and rill , The night - birds all that hour were still . But now they are jubilant anew , From cliff and tower , tu - whoo ! tu - whoo ! Tu - whoo ! tu - whoo ! from wood and fell ! Here ...
Сторінка 8
... hour were still . The nearer in temper any other line approaches this , the nearer does it approach the ideal of poetic wonder . It is , however , owing to the very rarity of Coleridge's genius that not he but Scott popularised the ...
... hour were still . The nearer in temper any other line approaches this , the nearer does it approach the ideal of poetic wonder . It is , however , owing to the very rarity of Coleridge's genius that not he but Scott popularised the ...
Сторінка 12
... hour to hour the antiquated Earth Beat like the heart of Man : songs , garlands , mirth , Banners , and happy faces , far and nigh ! And now , sole register that these things were , Two solitary greetings have I heard , ' Good - morrow ...
... hour to hour the antiquated Earth Beat like the heart of Man : songs , garlands , mirth , Banners , and happy faces , far and nigh ! And now , sole register that these things were , Two solitary greetings have I heard , ' Good - morrow ...
Сторінка 18
... hours of weariness , sensations sweet , Felt in the blood , and felt along the heart ; And passing even into my purer mind ... hour Of thoughtless youth ; but hearing oftentimes The still , sad music of humanity , Nor harsh nor grating ...
... hours of weariness , sensations sweet , Felt in the blood , and felt along the heart ; And passing even into my purer mind ... hour Of thoughtless youth ; but hearing oftentimes The still , sad music of humanity , Nor harsh nor grating ...
Сторінка 23
... hour is theirs , nor more is mine- Sad thought , which I would banish , But that I know , where'er I go , Thy ... hours , Our happy days recalling . Brisk Youth appeared , the Morn of youth , With freaks of graceful folly , - Life's ...
... hour is theirs , nor more is mine- Sad thought , which I would banish , But that I know , where'er I go , Thy ... hours , Our happy days recalling . Brisk Youth appeared , the Morn of youth , With freaks of graceful folly , - Life's ...
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admirable appeared ballads beauty became Blackwood's Magazine born bright Byron called Carlyle character Charles Charles Lamb Church Coleridge critic dark daughter death dream Dublin earth Edinburgh Edinburgh Review edition England English Essays eyes fancy father feeling flowers French genius hand hath heard heart heaven humour Irish John king Lady Lavengro Leigh Hunt letters light literary literature lived London look Lord Lyrical Ballads Memoir mind morning National Portrait Gallery nature never night novels o'er ottava rima passed passion philosophical poems poet poetic poetry political popular prose published romance round Saint Kevin Scotland Scott Scottish seems Shelley Sir Walter Scott song soul Southey spirit story sweet thee things thou thought tion Trinity College truth verse voice vols volumes wild William wonder words Wordsworth writing wrote young youth
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Сторінка 428 - The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
Сторінка 25 - There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore; — Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
Сторінка 105 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild ; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine ; Fast-fading violets cover'd up in leaves ; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
Сторінка 139 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags Plying her needle and thread — Stitch ! stitch ! stitch ! In poverty, hunger and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, Would that its tone could reach the rich ! She sang this "Song of the Shirt.
Сторінка 145 - I do not know what I may appear to the world, but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.
Сторінка 104 - O for a draught of vintage, that hath been Cool'da long age in the deep-delved earth, Tasting of Flora...
Сторінка 116 - The breath whose might I have invoked in song Descends on me ; my spirit's bark is driven Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given ; The massy earth and sphered skies are riven ! I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar ; Whilst burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.
Сторінка 67 - My shaping spirit of Imagination. For not to think of what I needs must feel, But to be still and patient, all I can; And haply by abstruse research to steal From my own nature all the natural man — This was my sole resource, my only plan : Till that which suits a part infects the whole, And now is almost grown the habit of my soul.
Сторінка 104 - MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, > Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk...
Сторінка 17 - That on a wild secluded scene impress Thoughts of more deep seclusion ; and connect The landscape with the quiet of the sky.