The Legend of Jubal: And Other Poems

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W. Blackwood and sons, 1874 - 242 стор.
This text showcases George Eliot's 1874 poem?The Legend of Jubal and also contains other poems from her canon.

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Сторінка 209 - May I reach That purest heaven, be to other souls The cup of strength in some great agony. Enkindle generous ardor , feed pure love. Beget the smiles that have no cruelty — Be the sweet presence of a good diffused, And in diffusion ever more intense. So shall I join the choir invisible Whose music is the gladness of the world.
Сторінка 208 - MAY I join the choir invisible Of those immortal dead who live again In minds made better by their presence : live In pulses stirred to generosity, In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn For miserable aims that end with self, In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, And with their mild persistence urge man's search To vaster issues.
Сторінка 201 - Tis God gives skill, But not without men's hands : He could not make Antonio Stradivari's violins Without Antonio.
Сторінка 178 - The faith that life on earth is being shaped To glorious ends, that order, justice, love Mean man's completeness, mean effect as sure As roundness in the dew-drop — that great faith Is but the rushing and expanding stream Of thought, of feeling, fed by all the past.
Сторінка 200 - May be : they are different. His quality declines : he spoils his hand With over-drinking. But were his the best, He could not work for two. My work is mine, And, heresy or not, if my hand slacked I should rob God — since He is fullest good — Leaving a blank instead of violins. I say, not God Himself can make man's best Without best men to help Him.
Сторінка 209 - That watched to ease the burthen of the world. Laboriously tracing what must be, And what may yet be better — saw within A worthier image for the sanctuary, And shaped it forth before the multitude Divinely human, raising worship so To higher reverence more mixed with love — That better self shall live till human Time Shall fold its eyelids, and the human sky Be gathered like a scroll within the tomb Unread for ever.
Сторінка 188 - But sudden came the barge's pitch-black prow, Nearer and angrier came my brother's cry, And all my soul was quivering fear, when lo ! Upon the imperilled line, suspended high, A silver perch ! My guilt that won the prey, Now turned to merit, had a guerdon rich Of hugs and praises, and made merry play, Until my triumph reached its highest pitch When all at home were told the wondrous feat, And how the little sister had fished well. In secret, though my fortune tasted sweet, I wondered why this happiness...
Сторінка 198 - Antonio Stradivari has an eye That winces at false work and loves the true, With hand and arm that play upon the tool As willingly as any singing bird Sets him to sing his morning roundelay, Because he likes to sing and likes the song.
Сторінка 186 - Thus rambling we were schooled in deepest lore, And learned the meanings that give words a soul, The fear, the love, the primal passionate store, Whose shaping impulses make manhood whole. Those hours were seed to all my after good; My infant gladness, through eye, ear, and touch, Took easily as warmth a various food To nourish the sweet skill of loving much.
Сторінка 70 - Maenad — made her snatch a brand And fire some forest, that her rage might mount In crashing roaring flames through half a land, Leaving her still and patient for a while. " Poor wretch ! " she says, of any murderess — " The world was cruel, and she could not sing: I carry my revenges in my throat ; I love in singing, and am loved again.

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