The Spirit of the Age, Or, Contemporary Portraits, Том 1H. Colburn, 1825 - 408 стор. |
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Сторінка 13
... advantage with the Hottentots , or hold intimate converse with the inhabitants of the Moon ; but being as we are , our feelings evaporate in so large a space- -we must draw the circle of our af- fections and duties somewhat closer - the ...
... advantage with the Hottentots , or hold intimate converse with the inhabitants of the Moon ; but being as we are , our feelings evaporate in so large a space- -we must draw the circle of our af- fections and duties somewhat closer - the ...
Сторінка 21
... advantages of fiction , makes any thing like so interesting a romance as Hunter's Captivity among the North American In- dians ? Has he any thing to show , in all the ap- paratus of New Lanark and its desolate monotony , to excite the ...
... advantages of fiction , makes any thing like so interesting a romance as Hunter's Captivity among the North American In- dians ? Has he any thing to show , in all the ap- paratus of New Lanark and its desolate monotony , to excite the ...
Сторінка 47
... advantage for the English author , that the chains with which he rivets our attention are forged out of his own thoughts , link by link , blow for blow , with glowing enthusiasm : we see the genuine ore melted in the furnace of fervid ...
... advantage for the English author , that the chains with which he rivets our attention are forged out of his own thoughts , link by link , blow for blow , with glowing enthusiasm : we see the genuine ore melted in the furnace of fervid ...
Сторінка 59
... advantage from Peter Abelard down to Thomas Moore , from the subtlest metaphysics to the politics of the Courier . There is no man of genius , in whose praise he descants , but the critic seems to stand above the author , and " what in ...
... advantage from Peter Abelard down to Thomas Moore , from the subtlest metaphysics to the politics of the Courier . There is no man of genius , in whose praise he descants , but the critic seems to stand above the author , and " what in ...
Сторінка 70
... present and of the preceding sketch . Mr. Godwin , with less natural capacity , and with fewer acquired advantages , by concentrating his mind on some given object , and : their doing what he had to do with all 70 THE SPIRIT OF THE AGE .
... present and of the preceding sketch . Mr. Godwin , with less natural capacity , and with fewer acquired advantages , by concentrating his mind on some given object , and : their doing what he had to do with all 70 THE SPIRIT OF THE AGE .
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admiration affectation argument beauty Bentham breath Caleb Williams candour character Cobbett Coleridge common common-place critic delight Edinburgh Review eloquence equally fancy feelings flowers French Revolution friends genius give Godwin grace ground habit hand heart Heaven honour House human idle imagination intellect Irving JEREMY BENTHAM less liberty light live look Lord Byron LORD ELDON Lyrical Ballads Malthus manner means ment mind modern moral Muse nature ness never object opinion pain passion perhaps person philosopher poem poet poetical poetry political popular prejudices pretensions pride principle quaint question racter reader reason Review Scotch sense sentiment servility Sir Francis Burdett Sir James Mackintosh Sir Walter Sir Walter Scott sort Southey speak spirit spleen striking style talent taste thing thought tion tone Tooke truth turn vanity verse virtue Whig wild word writings
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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?