The Literary History of England in the End of the Eighteenth and Beginning of the Nineteenth Century, Том 3Macmillan and Company, 1882 |
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Сторінка 6
... critics who carouse at " the banquets spread at Holland House . " All the members of the belligerent band of the Edinburgh Review were to be found there by right of their party , just as , in the same right , they were banished from so ...
... critics who carouse at " the banquets spread at Holland House . " All the members of the belligerent band of the Edinburgh Review were to be found there by right of their party , just as , in the same right , they were banished from so ...
Сторінка 8
... critics far above the hotly contested productions of Wordsworth and Cole- ridge . And his other profession of banker , and his beautiful house , and his wealth , gave Rogers such a position as , alas , the greatest genius by itself will ...
... critics far above the hotly contested productions of Wordsworth and Cole- ridge . And his other profession of banker , and his beautiful house , and his wealth , gave Rogers such a position as , alas , the greatest genius by itself will ...
Сторінка 10
... critics call vanity , but which seems to us almost the best point in his character - an unfeigned desire to give her pleasure . None of his contem- poraries , names to which it would be laughable now to compare his , had penetrated as ...
... critics call vanity , but which seems to us almost the best point in his character - an unfeigned desire to give her pleasure . None of his contem- poraries , names to which it would be laughable now to compare his , had penetrated as ...
Сторінка 11
... criticism thereupon , had re- venged himself in a trenchant and fiery satire , a very different kind of stuff from the Baviads , and was now come back after various travels , with a trumpery manuscript in the same vein , which he called ...
... criticism thereupon , had re- venged himself in a trenchant and fiery satire , a very different kind of stuff from the Baviads , and was now come back after various travels , with a trumpery manuscript in the same vein , which he called ...
Сторінка 13
... critics by any outcry of pain or vengeance . But criti- cism was a new art in those days , and though no more ferocious ( we think ) than now , was much more keenly felt . And the Edinburgh had the art of planting wounds so that they ...
... critics by any outcry of pain or vengeance . But criti- cism was a new art in those days , and though no more ferocious ( we think ) than now , was much more keenly felt . And the Edinburgh had the art of planting wounds so that they ...
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admiration Allan Cunningham amusing beautiful Bentham born brilliant Byron called canto Castle Rackrent character Childe Harold contemporaries critics curious delightful died divine doubt England eyes fame father feeling Ford Abbey friends genial genius girl heart heaven hero honour human humour imagination interest Irish James Mill Jane Austen Jeremy Bentham Keats kind lady Lady Morgan Leigh Hunt less letters literary literature lived London Lord Lord Byron Mackintosh Maria Edgeworth melody mind miserable Miss Edgeworth Moore moral mystery natural never noble Northanger Abbey pain Panopticon passion perhaps philosopher pleasure poem poet poetical poetry political poor Pride and Prejudice produced published reader says scarcely scene seems sentiment Shelley Shelley's society song soul Southey spirit story strange Susan Ferrier sweet thing thought tion touch verse vulgar wild wonderful write young poet youth
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Сторінка 136 - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific — and all his men Looked at each other with a wild surmise: Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
Сторінка 108 - My soul is an enchanted boat, Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing ; And thine doth like an angel sit Beside the helm conducting it, Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing.
Сторінка 153 - 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 68 - The sky is changed! - and such a change! Oh night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder! Not from one lone cloud, But every mountain now hath found a tongue, And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud!
Сторінка 58 - Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again? Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang As if her song could have no ending; I saw her singing at her work, And o'er the sickle bending; — I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.
Сторінка 266 - With deep affection • And recollection, I often think of Those Shandon bells, "Whose sounds so wild would. In the days of childhood, . . Fling round my cradle Their magic spells. On, this I ponder Where'er I wander, And thus grow fonder, Sweet Cork, of thee,— With thy bells of Shandon, That sound so grand, on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee.
Сторінка 66 - Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven! If in your bright leaves we would read the fate Of men and empires, — 'tis to be forgiven, That in our aspirations to be great, Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, And claim a kindred with you; for ye are A beauty and a mystery, and create In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star.
Сторінка 116 - Tis we who, lost in stormy visions, keep With phantoms an unprofitable strife, And in mad trance strike with our spirit's knife Invulnerable nothings. We decay Like corpses in a charnel; fear and grief Convulse us and consume us day by day, And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay.
Сторінка 235 - Wow strain I can do myself like any now going ; but the exquisite touch which renders ordinary common-place things and characters interesting from the truth of the description and the sentiment is denied to me.
Сторінка 117 - He is made one with Nature : there is heard His voice in all her music, from the moan Of thunder, to the song of night's sweet bird ; He is a presence to be felt and known In darkness and in light, from herb and stone, Spreading itself where'er that Power may move Which has withdrawn his being to its own ; Which wields the world with never wearied love, Sustains it from beneath, and kindles it above.