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admiration advantage affectation appearance argument beauty become better breath called cause character common conversation critic delight doubt English equally express fact fancy feelings figure friends genius give given Godwin grace ground habit hand head heart hope House human idea imagination interest keep kind learning least leave less light lines live look Lord Lord Byron manner means mind moral nature never object once opinion original pain party pass passion perfect perhaps person philosopher poet poetry political popular prejudices present principle question reader reason Review seems sense side sort sound speak spirit stand striking style thing thought tion tone Tooke true truth turn understanding verse whole wish writings
Сторінка 143 - Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much; Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind.
Сторінка 362 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Сторінка 58 - That which is now a horse, even with a thought The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct As water is in water.
Сторінка 398 - High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating time. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin...
Сторінка 262 - Out went the taper as she hurried in ; Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died: She closed the door, she panted, all akin To spirits of the air, and visions wide : No uttered syllable, or, woe betide...
Сторінка 363 - The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave ! Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry!
Сторінка 382 - Now upon Syria's land of roses Softly the light of eve reposes, And like a glory the broad sun Hangs over sainted Lebanon, Whose head in wintry grandeur towers And whitens with eternal sleet, While summer in a vale of flowers Is sleeping rosy at his feet.
Сторінка 191 - The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself; * Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, Leave not a wreck behind.
Сторінка 145 - Who but must laugh, if such a man there be? Who would not weep, if Atticus were he?