The Modern Language Review, Том 1

Передня обкладинка
John George Robertson, Charles Jasper Sisson
Modern Humanities Research Association, 1906
The Modern Language Review (MLR) is an interdisciplinary journal encompassing the following fields: English (including United States and the Commonwealth), French (including Francophone Africa and Canada), Germanic (including Dutch and Scandinavian), Hispanic (including Latin-American, Portuguese, and Catalan), Italian, Slavonic and East European Studies, and General Studies (including linguistics, comparative literature, and critical theory).

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Сторінка 39 - Of all flowers that breathe and shine: — We may live so happy there, That the spirits of the air, Envying us, may even entice To our healing paradise The polluting multitude...
Сторінка 29 - Thou Friend, whose presence on my wintry heart Fell, like bright Spring upon some herbless plain, How beautiful and calm and free thou wert In thy young wisdom...
Сторінка 203 - Angels and ministers of grace defend us! Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd, Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, Be thy intents wicked or charitable, Thou com'st in such a questionable shape, That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee Hamlet, King, father, royal Dane, O, answer me!
Сторінка 43 - ... lightest wind was in its nest, The tempest in its home. The whispering waves were half asleep, The clouds were gone to play, And on the bosom of the deep...
Сторінка 198 - For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings; How some have been deposed; some slain in war...
Сторінка 150 - It may be affirmed, without any encomiastic fervour, that he brought to his poetic labours a mind replete with learning, and that his pages are embellished with all the ornaments which books could supply ; that he was the first who imparted to English numbers the enthusiasm of the greater ode, and the gaiety of the less ; that he was equally qualified for sprightly sallies, and for lofty flights...
Сторінка 205 - Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive Against thy mother aught; leave her to heaven, And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge To prick and sting her.
Сторінка 339 - I weep for joy To stand upon my kingdom once again. Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand, Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs. As a long-parted mother with her child Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting, So weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth, And do thee favours with my royal hands.
Сторінка 151 - I have in these two Odes of Pindar taken, left out, and added what I please ; nor make it so much my aim to let the Reader know precisely what he spoke, as what was his way and manner of speaking...
Сторінка 36 - those spoilers spoiled, Voltaire, " Frederick and Paul, Catherine and Leopold, And hoary anarchs, demagogues, and sage — names which the world thinks always old ? "For, in the battle Life and they did wage, She remained conqueror. I was overcome By my own heart alone, which neither age "Nor tears nor infamy, nor now the tomb, Could temper to its object.

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