The Spirit of the Age, Or, Contemporary Portraits, Том 1H. Colburn, 1825 - 408 стор. |
З цієї книги
Результати 1-5 із 35
Сторінка 37
... tion of his self - approbation . " There was the rub that made philosophy of so short life ! " Mr. God- win's definition of morals was the same as the ad- mired one of law , reason without passion ; but with the unlimited scope of ...
... tion of his self - approbation . " There was the rub that made philosophy of so short life ! " Mr. God- win's definition of morals was the same as the ad- mired one of law , reason without passion ; but with the unlimited scope of ...
Сторінка 49
... tion a circumstance with respect to the last - men- tioned work , which may throw some light on the history and progress of Mr. Godwin's mind . He was anxious to make his biographical account as complete as he could , and applied for ...
... tion a circumstance with respect to the last - men- tioned work , which may throw some light on the history and progress of Mr. Godwin's mind . He was anxious to make his biographical account as complete as he could , and applied for ...
Сторінка 70
... tion , his prose is utterly abortive . Hardly a gleam is to be found in it of the brilliancy and richness of those stores of thought and language that he pours out in- cessantly , when they are lost like drops of water in the ground ...
... tion , his prose is utterly abortive . Hardly a gleam is to be found in it of the brilliancy and richness of those stores of thought and language that he pours out in- cessantly , when they are lost like drops of water in the ground ...
Сторінка 72
... tion by a chain of metaphysical reasoning without end . Not so Mr. Godwin . That is best to him , which he can do best . He does not waste himself in vain aspirations and effeminate sympathies . He is blind , deaf , insensible to all ...
... tion by a chain of metaphysical reasoning without end . Not so Mr. Godwin . That is best to him , which he can do best . He does not waste himself in vain aspirations and effeminate sympathies . He is blind , deaf , insensible to all ...
Сторінка 79
... mystery - and in the noisy conflict between extravagant encomiums and splenetic objections , the true secret escapes observa- tion , which is , that the whole thing is , nearly from beginning to end , a transposition of ideas . If.
... mystery - and in the noisy conflict between extravagant encomiums and splenetic objections , the true secret escapes observa- tion , which is , that the whole thing is , nearly from beginning to end , a transposition of ideas . If.
Інші видання - Показати все
Загальні терміни та фрази
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
Популярні уривки
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?