University of California Publications in Modern Philology, Том 3

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Сторінка 334 - But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind. With tranquil restoration...
Сторінка 295 - Not so the loss. The man of wealth and pride Takes up a space that many poor supplied ; Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds, Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds...
Сторінка 315 - All fixed, fast-frozen relations, with their train of ancient and venerable prejudices and opinions, are swept away, all new-formed ones become antiquated before they can ossify. All that is solid melts into air, all that is holy is profaned, and man is at last compelled to face with sober senses his real conditions of life and his relations with his kind.
Сторінка 325 - Th' applause of listening senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their...
Сторінка 329 - The loathsome mask has fallen, the man remains Sceptreless, free, uncircumscribed, but man Equal, unclassed, tribeless, and nationless. Exempt from awe, worship degree, the king Over himself; just, gentle, wise...
Сторінка 294 - He at the building of this Sheep-fold wrought, And left the work unfinished when he died. Three years, or little more, did Isabel Survive her Husband : at her death the estate Was sold, and went into a stranger's hand. The Cottage which was named The Evening Star Is gone — the ploughshare has been through the ground On which it stood...
Сторінка 338 - Or for the summer shade. It was the first Of those domestic tales that spake to me Of Shepherds, dwellers in the valleys, men Whom I already loved; — not verily For their own sakes, but for the fields and hills Where was their occupation and abode.
Сторінка 213 - Noch spür ich ihren Atem auf den Wangen : Wie kann das sein, daß diese nahen Tage Fort sind, für immer fort, und ganz vergangen? Dies ist ein Ding, das keiner voll aussinnt, Und viel zu grauenvoll, als daß man klage: Daß alles gleitet und vorüberrinnt Und daß mein eignes Ich, durch nichts gehemmt, Herüberglitt aus einem kleinen Kind Mir wie ein Hund unheimlich stumm und fremd. Dann : daß ich auch vor hundert Jahren war Und meine Ahnen, die im Totenhemd, Mit mir verwandt sind wie mein eignes...
Сторінка 178 - Lead me into some place that's fit for mourning; Where the free air, light, and the cheerful sun May never enter. Hang it round with black; ;Set up one taper that may last a day — As long as I've to live; and there all leave me, Sparing no tears when you this tale relate, But bid all cruel fathers dread my fate.
Сторінка 325 - Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. Th...

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