The Spirit of the Age, Or, Contemporary Portraits, Том 1H. Colburn, 1825 - 408 стор. |
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Сторінка 160
... Review- ers " is dogmatical and insolent , but without refine- ment or point . He calls people names , and tries to transfix a character with an epithet , which does not stick , because it has no other foundation than his own petulance ...
... Review- ers " is dogmatical and insolent , but without refine- ment or point . He calls people names , and tries to transfix a character with an epithet , which does not stick , because it has no other foundation than his own petulance ...
Сторінка 179
... Review ? Because he is orthodox , are we to do no- thing but read the Book of the Church ? We declare we think his former poetical scepticism was not only more amiable , but had more of the spirit of religion in it , implied a more ...
... Review ? Because he is orthodox , are we to do no- thing but read the Book of the Church ? We declare we think his former poetical scepticism was not only more amiable , but had more of the spirit of religion in it , implied a more ...
Сторінка 180
... Review , notwithstanding their viru- lence and the talent they display , have a tendency to qualify its most pernicious effects . They have re- deeming traits in them . " A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump ; " and the spirit of ...
... Review , notwithstanding their viru- lence and the talent they display , have a tendency to qualify its most pernicious effects . They have re- deeming traits in them . " A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump ; " and the spirit of ...
Сторінка 181
... the matter , that is , in his Essays and Reviews . There is rather a want of originality and even of impetus : but there is no want of playful or biting satire , of ingenuity , of MR . SOUTHEY . 181 LORD BYRON MR SOUTHEY 147.
... the matter , that is , in his Essays and Reviews . There is rather a want of originality and even of impetus : but there is no want of playful or biting satire , of ingenuity , of MR . SOUTHEY . 181 LORD BYRON MR SOUTHEY 147.
Сторінка 218
... throes and heaving and muttered threats of an earthquake , rather than the loud thunderbolt ) -and soon after came out a criticism on it in The Monthly Review , doing justice to the author and the 218 THE SPIRIT OF THE AGE .
... throes and heaving and muttered threats of an earthquake , rather than the loud thunderbolt ) -and soon after came out a criticism on it in The Monthly Review , doing justice to the author and the 218 THE SPIRIT OF THE AGE .
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Сторінка 339 - Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds rolling dun, Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun, Shout in their sulph'rous canopy. 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 ! Few, few, shall part where many meet ! The snow shall be their winding-sheet, And every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
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 58 - That which is now a horse, even with a thought The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct As water is in water.
Сторінка 374 - 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, That all with one consent praise new-born gawds, Though they are made and moulded of things past, And give to dust that is a little gilt More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.
Сторінка 238 - 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 338 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
Сторінка 70 - Diminished shrunk from the more withering scene ! Ah Bard tremendous in sublimity ! Could I behold thee in thy loftier mood Wandering at eve with finely frenzied eye Beneath some vast old tempest-swinging wood ! Awhile with mute awe gazing I would brood : Then weep aloud in a wild ecstasy ! LINES COMPOSED WHILE CLIMBING THE LEFT ASCENT OF BROCKLEY COOMB, SOMERSETSHIRE, MAY, 1795.
Сторінка 358 - 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 238 - Anon his heart revives : her vespers done, Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees; Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one; Loosens her fragrant bodice; by degrees Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees: Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed, Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees, In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed, But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.
Сторінка 145 - Who but must laugh, if such a man there be? Who would not weep, if Atticus were he?