Development of English Literature and Language, Том 2S.C. Griggs, 1883 |
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Сторінка 18
... happy by giving me a kiss ? Prue . No , indeed ; I'm angry at you . [ Runs and kisses him . Tattle . Hold , hold , that's pretty well ; but you should not have given it me , but have suffered me to have taken it . Prue . Well , we'll do ...
... happy by giving me a kiss ? Prue . No , indeed ; I'm angry at you . [ Runs and kisses him . Tattle . Hold , hold , that's pretty well ; but you should not have given it me , but have suffered me to have taken it . Prue . Well , we'll do ...
Сторінка 22
... happy , and I'm contented , as the saying is . ' One or two higher spirits reach the passions of the other age , - Dryden in tragedy ; and by his side a younger contemporary , Otway , in whose Venice Preserved we encounter the sombre ...
... happy , and I'm contented , as the saying is . ' One or two higher spirits reach the passions of the other age , - Dryden in tragedy ; and by his side a younger contemporary , Otway , in whose Venice Preserved we encounter the sombre ...
Сторінка 25
... happy for it was wisely said by a man of great observation , " that there be as many mis- eries beyond riches as on this side of them . " And yet God deliver us from pinching poverty , and grant that , having a competency , we may be ...
... happy for it was wisely said by a man of great observation , " that there be as many mis- eries beyond riches as on this side of them . " And yet God deliver us from pinching poverty , and grant that , having a competency , we may be ...
Сторінка 46
... happy , world without end . Amen . ' - Writings . We close our eyes to draw a face from memory . In sleep , illusions are perfect . Poesy quenched the vision of Homer and of Milton before she lifted the veil from their glori- ous ...
... happy , world without end . Amen . ' - Writings . We close our eyes to draw a face from memory . In sleep , illusions are perfect . Poesy quenched the vision of Homer and of Milton before she lifted the veil from their glori- ous ...
Сторінка 52
... happy region of Beulah . ' About this time , the state and happiness of these poor people at Bedford was thus , in a dream or vision , represented to me . I saw as if they were set on the sunny side of some high mountain , there ...
... happy region of Beulah . ' About this time , the state and happiness of these poor people at Bedford was thus , in a dream or vision , represented to me . I saw as if they were set on the sunny side of some high mountain , there ...
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Adam Bede admirable beauty Biography.-Born breath called character Christian clouds criticism dark death Deism Deists delight divine dream earth England English eternal eyes faith fancy feeling fire flowers forever genius George Eliot hand happy hath heart heaven hope Hudibras human ideal ideas imagination immortal J. G. Holland lady less light literary literature living look Lord Lord Halifax manner Matthew Arnold mind moral nature never night noble o'er object once Over-soul passed passion Pecksniff philosophical pleasure poems poet poetic poetry Pope prose Prue Puritan rapture religion satire says Scarlet Letter seems seen sense sentiment Shakespeare sorrow soul spirit stars style sweet taste Tatler tears tender thee things thou thought thousand tion truth turned universal verse virtue voice Voltaire Whig wife words write wrote youth
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Сторінка 174 - Is not a patron, My Lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water and, when he has reached ground, encumbers him with help?
Сторінка 117 - Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutored mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind: His soul, proud science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk or Milky Way: Yet simple Nature to his hope has given.
Сторінка 213 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place.
Сторінка 385 - Take the wings Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings,— yet the dead are there...
Сторінка 12 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her, that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired: Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die ! that she...
Сторінка 213 - Sweet was the sound when oft, at evening's close, Up yonder hill the village murmur rose ; There as I passed with careless steps and slow The mingling notes came softened from below. The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung, The sober herd that lowed to meet their young, The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, The playful children just let loose from school, The watchdog's voice that bayed the whispering wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind, — These all in sweet confusion sought...
Сторінка 292 - HAIL to thee, blithe spirit ! Bird thou never wert, That from heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
Сторінка 393 - BLESSINGS on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan ! With thy turned-up pantaloons, And thy merry whistled tunes ; With thy red lip, redder still Kissed by strawberries on the hill ; With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace : From my heart I give thee joy, — I was once a barefoot boy ! Prince thou art, — the grown-up man Only is republican.
Сторінка 489 - And thro' the moss the ivies creep, And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep, And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.
Сторінка 214 - Wept o'er his wounds or tales of sorrow done, Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were won. Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow, And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began.