Censura Literaria: Containing Titles, Abstracts, and Opinions of Old English Books, with Original Disquisitions, Articles of Biography, and Other Literary Antiquities, Band 8
Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1815
Was andere dazu sagen - Rezension schreiben
Es wurden keine Rezensionen gefunden.
Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
admiration affecting ancient appear beauty character charms colours common considered continued converse criticism death delight doubt Earl equally existence expression eyes faculties fame fancy fear feel fire genius give given hand happy head heard heart honour hope hour human ideas interest kind language late learned least less letter light living Longford look Lord manner means merit mind moral nature never objects observed once opinion original passage perhaps person pleasure poems poet poetical poetry possessed praise present probably produced readers reading reason remarks respect RUMINATOR says scenes seems sense sentiments sometimes soul spirit suppose sure talents taste thee thing thought tion true truth wild wish write written youth
Seite 126 - In thoughts from the visions of the night, When deep sleep falleth on men, Fear came upon me, and trembling, Which made all my bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face; The hair of my flesh stood up: It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: An image was before mine eyes, There was silence, and I heard a voice, saying, Shall mortal man be more just than God?
Seite 105 - Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes: Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm: Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey.
Seite 52 - Mungo's mither hang'd hersel. Before him Doon pours all his floods; The doubling storm roars thro' the woods ; The lightnings flash from pole to pole; Near and more near the thunders roll : When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze; Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing ; And loud resounded mirth and dancing. Inspiring bold John Barleycorn ! What dangers thou canst make us scorn ! Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil; Wi' usquebae, we'll face the devil!
Seite 32 - The world could not have furnished you with a present so acceptable to me, as the picture which you have so kindly sent me. I received it the night before last, and viewed it with a trepidation of nerves and spirits somewhat akin to what I should have felt, had the dear original presented herself to my embraces. I kissed it, and hung it where it is the last object, that I see at night, and of course the first on which I open my eyes in the morning.
Seite 38 - Thy spirit, Independence, let me share ; Lord of the lion heart and eagle eye ! Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare, Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky !" " Are not these noble verses ? They are the introduction of Smollet's Ode to Independence.
Seite 45 - Are we a piece of machinery, which, like the ^Eolian harp, passive, takes the impression of the passing accident ; or do these workings argue Something within us above the trodden clod ? I own myself partial to such proofs of those awful and important realities : a God that made all things, man's immaterial and immortal nature, and a world of weal or woe beyond death and the grave.
Seite 44 - I ascended the high hills of Bagdat in order to pass the rest of the day in meditation and prayer. As I was here airing myself on the tops of the mountains, I fell into a profound contemplation on the vanity of human life; and, passing from one thought to another, surely, said I, man is but a shadow and life a dream.
Seite 52 - The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter; And ay the ale was growing better: The landlady and Tam grew gracious, Wi' favours, secret, sweet, and precious: The souter tauld his queerest stories; The landlord's laugh was ready chorus: The storm without might rair and rustle, Tam did na mind the storm a whistle. Care, mad to see a man sae happy, E'en drown'd himsel amang the nappy: As bees flee hame wi...