Literary Leaves; Or, Prose and Verse Chiefly Written in India, Том 2W.H. Allen & Company, 1840 |
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Сторінка 28
... kind , To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds : But why thy odour matcheth not thy show , To solve is this , -- that thou dost common grow . " Son . 69 . The next passage , however , is an acknowledgment , though on the part of ...
... kind , To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds : But why thy odour matcheth not thy show , To solve is this , -- that thou dost common grow . " Son . 69 . The next passage , however , is an acknowledgment , though on the part of ...
Сторінка 49
... kind of waking night - mare . The lulls between the C. It was Charles the first , I think , who said that that was the best climate to which men might expose themselves with impunity the greatest number of hours in the day . He thought ...
... kind of waking night - mare . The lulls between the C. It was Charles the first , I think , who said that that was the best climate to which men might expose themselves with impunity the greatest number of hours in the day . He thought ...
Сторінка 53
... kind regards , Oft vainly at her sacred altars fall . Her mood is changeful ever , and her dreams May mock the mental eye . As brief as bright , O'er life's dim land they flash their floods of light , To leave a denser gloom . The ...
... kind regards , Oft vainly at her sacred altars fall . Her mood is changeful ever , and her dreams May mock the mental eye . As brief as bright , O'er life's dim land they flash their floods of light , To leave a denser gloom . The ...
Сторінка 58
... There was a great rage for poetry of a certain kind in the time of Pope ; but the flock of mocking birds who had got his tune by heart , without catching a single gleam of his inspiration 58 POETRY AND UTILITARIANISM .
... There was a great rage for poetry of a certain kind in the time of Pope ; but the flock of mocking birds who had got his tune by heart , without catching a single gleam of his inspiration 58 POETRY AND UTILITARIANISM .
Сторінка 62
... kind has the highest subsistence , is full of divine good , and establishes the soul in all the causes of things . " Plato , according to Proclus , banished poetry from his commonwealth , not from any disrespect to the art itself , but ...
... kind has the highest subsistence , is full of divine good , and establishes the soul in all the causes of things . " Plato , according to Proclus , banished poetry from his commonwealth , not from any disrespect to the art itself , but ...
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Addison admiration alluded amongst Anna Seward appears beauty Ben Jonson Byron Campbell character charm critic delight diction Don Quixote dramatic dreams Drummond Dryden English English language excellence expression exquisite Falstaff fame fancy feeling genius Grongar Hill hath Hazlitt heart human humour Iago imagination imitation intellect Johnson language Leigh Hunt less lines literary literature living look Lord Lord Byron Massinger merit Milton mind Moore moral Muse nature never noble o'er object observed Othello passages passion perhaps Petrarch poems poet poet's poetical poetry Pope popular praise prose racter reader remarkable respect rhyme Roger de Coverley Sancho Sancho Panza says seems sense Shakespeare Shylock Sir Roger sonnets soul Southey speak spirit stanza strange style sweet taste thee thine thing Thomas Moore thou thought tion Tory true truth uncle Toby verse vulgar Whig Wordsworth writer written
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Сторінка 159 - Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou ow'dst yesterday.
Сторінка 10 - ... this line, remember not The hand that writ it; for I love you so That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot If thinking on me then should make you woe. O, if, I say, you look upon this verse When I perhaps compounded am with clay, Do not so much as my poor name rehearse, But let your love even with my life decay, Lest the wise world should look into your moan And mock you with me after I am gone.
Сторінка 14 - O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide Than public means which public manners breeds. Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand...
Сторінка 11 - Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue, Could make me any summer's story tell...
Сторінка 179 - Where virtue is, these are more virtuous : Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt ; For she had eyes, and chose me. No, lago ; I'll see before I doubt ; when I doubt, prove ; And on the proof, there is no more but this, — Away at once with love or jealousy ! lago.
Сторінка 25 - Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace. Even so my sun one early morn did shine With all triumphant splendour on my brow, But out, alack, he was but one hour mine; The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now. Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth; Suns of the world may stain when heaven's sun staineth.
Сторінка 214 - As Sir Roger is landlord to the whole congregation, he keeps them in very good order, and will suffer nobody to sleep in it besides himself; for if, by chance, he has been surprised into a short nap at sermon, upon recovering out of it he stands up and looks about him, and, if he sees anybody else nodding, either wakes them himself, or sends his servants to them.
Сторінка 7 - Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Сторінка 237 - And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore From my home and my weeping friends never to part ; My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er, And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness of heart. Stay, stay with us ! — rest ; thou art weary and worn...
Сторінка 9 - When forty winters shall besiege thy brow, And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field, Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now, Will be a tatter'd weed, of small worth held...