Dante Gabriel Rossetti: A Record and a StudyMacmillan and Company, 1882 - 432 стор. |
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Сторінка 8
... written by the great Florentine and often quoted by the child's father . Reference has frequently been made since the poet's death to an early dramatic attempt called The Slave , but what the author has himself said frequently in ...
... written by the great Florentine and often quoted by the child's father . Reference has frequently been made since the poet's death to an early dramatic attempt called The Slave , but what the author has himself said frequently in ...
Сторінка 13
... writing , he also enclosed several short poems as specimens of his own poetic calibre , chief amongst the few being My Sister's Sleep and The Blessëd Damozel ; and the letter , dated 25th November 1847 and signed " Gabriel Charles ...
... writing , he also enclosed several short poems as specimens of his own poetic calibre , chief amongst the few being My Sister's Sleep and The Blessëd Damozel ; and the letter , dated 25th November 1847 and signed " Gabriel Charles ...
Сторінка 20
... written in 1851 , or the beginning of '52 . initials as above were taken from the lead - pencil , because people used to say my style was hard.- D. G. R. " 1 A design fully as weird as the ballad of Sister Helen was made about the same ...
... written in 1851 , or the beginning of '52 . initials as above were taken from the lead - pencil , because people used to say my style was hard.- D. G. R. " 1 A design fully as weird as the ballad of Sister Helen was made about the same ...
Сторінка 25
... writing - desk , grew a tall sycamore , whose large delicate leaves , with their innumerable lights and shadows , made in summer a ceaseless shimmer of love- liness and in autumn waved to and fro like gold and amber flakes . Those who ...
... writing - desk , grew a tall sycamore , whose large delicate leaves , with their innumerable lights and shadows , made in summer a ceaseless shimmer of love- liness and in autumn waved to and fro like gold and amber flakes . Those who ...
Сторінка 27
... murmuring burn and labouring hard at The Stream's Secret . It was from remembrances of Penkill that the idea of writing The King's Tragedy afterwards entered Rossetti's mind , this having been suggested by the LIFE . 27.
... murmuring burn and labouring hard at The Stream's Secret . It was from remembrances of Penkill that the idea of writing The King's Tragedy afterwards entered Rossetti's mind , this having been suggested by the LIFE . 27.
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Загальні терміни та фрази
amongst angel artist Astarte Syriaca ballad Beatrice beautiful belonging Blessed Damozel blue called chalk charm Christina Rossetti colour composition Crayons D. G. ROSSETTI Dante Gabriel Rossetti Dante Rossetti dark death drawing early emotion entitled exhibited expression exquisite eyes face finished Ford Madox Brown genius Germ golden green hair Hand and Soul head heart House imaginative interesting Italian lady latter light Lilith lines literature look lovers lyric Madox Brown motif nature once original painter painting passion pencil Penkill Castle picture poem poet poetic poetry portrait possession Preraphaelite prose Proserpina reader recognised referred remarkable replica robe Rose Mary Ruskin seems seen sestet Sister Helen soft song sonnet spirit stanzas strange thee Theodore Watts thou thought tion truth Venus Venus Verticordia verse Vision of Fiammetta Vita Nuova water-colour wherein William William Bell Scott wings words young
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Сторінка 319 - Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops — at the bent spray's edge- — That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture!
Сторінка 346 - I HAVE been here before, But when or how I cannot tell: I know the grass beyond the door, The sweet keen smell, The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
Сторінка 249 - THE blessed damozel leaned out From the gold bar of Heaven ; Her eyes were deeper than the depth Of waters stilled at even ; She had three lilies in her hand, And the stars in her hair were seven.
Сторінка 275 - She is older than the rocks among which she sits; like the vampire, she has been dead many times, and learned the secrets of the grave; and has been a diver in deep seas, and keeps their fallen day about her; and trafficked for strange webs with Eastern merchants; and, as Leda, was the mother of Helen of Troy, and, as Saint Anne, the mother of Mary...
Сторінка 273 - I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell ; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely ; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy ; for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea.
Сторінка 430 - ... called No-more, Too-late, Farewell ; Unto thine ear I hold the dead-sea shell Cast up thy Life's foam-fretted feet between ; Unto thine eyes the glass where that is seen Which had Life's form and Love's, but by my spell Is now a shaken shadow intolerable, Of ultimate things unuttered the frail screen. Mark me, how still I am...
Сторінка 302 - The life-blood of rhythmical translation is this commandment, — that a good poem shall not be turned into a bad one. The only true motive for putting poetry into a fresh language must be to endow a fresh nation, as far as possible, with one more possession of beauty. Poetry not being an exact science, literality of rendering is altogether secondary to this chief law. I say literality, — not fidelity, which is by no means the same thing.
Сторінка 274 - But the third sister, who is also the youngest ! — Hush ! whisper whilst we talk of her\ Her kingdom is not large, or else no flesh should live ; but within that kingdom all power is hers. Her head, turreted like that of Cybele, rises almost beyond the reach of sight. She droops not; and her eyes, rising so high, might be hidden by distance. But, being what they are, they cannot be hidden ; through the treble veil of crape which she wears, the fierce light of a blazing misery, that rests not for...
Сторінка 360 - She may not speak, she sinks in a swoon, Sister Helen, — She lifts her lips and gasps on the moon.
Сторінка 396 - Beyond all depth away The heat lies silent at the brink of day: Now the hand trails upon the viol-string That sobs, and the brown faces cease to sing, Sad with the whole of pleasure.
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