An Essay on Robert Burns

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American book Company, 1896 - 90 стор.
 

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Сторінка 42 - Are we a piece of machinery, which, like the /Eolian harp, passive, takes the impression of the passing accident ; or do these workings argue something within us above the trodden clod ? I own myself partial to such proofs of those awful and important realities : a God that made all things, man's immaterial and immortal nature, and a world of weal or wo beyond death and the grave.
Сторінка 68 - His person was strong and robust; his manners rustic, not clownish; a sort of dignified plainness and simplicity, which received part of its effect perhaps from one's knowledge of his extraordinary talents. His features are represented in Mr. Nasmyth's picture: but to me it conveys the idea that they are diminished, as if seen in perspective. I think his countenance was more massive than it looks in any of the portraits.
Сторінка 68 - His person was strong and robust ; his manners rustic, not clownish ; a sort of dignified plainness and simplicity, which received part of its effect, perhaps, from one's knowledge of his extraordinary talents. His features are represented in Mr Nasmyth's picture, but to me it conveys the idea, that they are diminished, as if seen in perspective.
Сторінка 69 - I never saw a man in company with his superiors in station or information more perfectly free from either the reality or the affectation of embarrassment. I was told, but did not observe it, that his address to females was extremely deferential, and always with a turn either to the pathetic or humorous, which engaged their attention particularly. I have heard the late Duchess of Gordon 2 remark this. I do not know anything I can add to these recollections of forty years since.
Сторінка 53 - I knew a very wise man so much of Sir Chr — 's sentiment, that he believed if a man were permitted to make all the ballads, he need not care who should make the laws of a nation.
Сторінка 88 - I was confirmed in this opinion, that he, who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well hereafter in laudable things, ought himself to be a true poem...
Сторінка 28 - Sincerity, his indisputable air of Truth. Here are no fabulous woes or joys; no hollow fantastic sentimentalities ; no wiredrawn refmings, either in thought or feeling: the passion that is traced before us has glowed in a living heart; the opinion he utters has risen in his own understanding, and been a light to his own steps.
Сторінка 67 - Cold on Canadian hills, or Minden's plain, Perhaps that mother wept her soldier slain ; Bent o'er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew, The big drops mingling with the milk he drew, Gave the sad presage of his future years, The child of misery baptised in tears.
Сторінка 69 - I ever see him again, except in the street, where he did not recognise me, as I could not expect he should. He was much caressed in Edinburgh : but (considering what literary emoluments have been since his day) the efforts made for his relief were extremely trifling. "I remember, on this occasion I mention, I thought...
Сторінка 65 - ... to conceive what the sensations of an isolated set of scholars (almost all either clergymen or professors) must have been in the presence of this big-boned, blackbrowed, brawny stranger, with his great flashing eyes, who, having forced his way among them from the plough-tail at a single stride, manifested, in the whole strain of his bearing and conversation, a most thorough conviction, that, in the society of the most eminent men of his nation, he was exactly where he was entitled to be...

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