The Principles of English Composition: Illustrated by Examples with Critical Remarks

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Cochrane and Pickersgill, 1831 - 351 Seiten
 

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Seite 153 - ... unfinished. A quibble is the golden apple for which he will always turn aside from his career or stoop from his elevation. A quibble, poor and barren as it is, gave him such delight that he was content to purchase it by the sacrifice of reason, propriety, and truth. A quibble was to him the fatal Cleopatra for which he lost the world, and was content to lose it.
Seite 81 - Bagdad, 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 4 - I may surely be contented without the praise of perfection, which, if I could obtain, in this gloom of solitude, what would it avail me? I have protracted my work till most of those whom I wished to please have sunk into the grave, and success and miscarriage are empty sounds: I therefore dismiss it with frigid tranquillity, having little to fear or hope from censure or from praise.
Seite 94 - And in thy right hand lead with thee The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty; And if I give thee honour due, Mirth, admit me of thy crew, To live with her and live with thee, In unreproved pleasures free...
Seite 140 - Even now, methinks, as pondering here I stand, I see the rural Virtues leave the land. Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail That idly waiting flaps with every gale, 400 Downward they move, a melancholy band, Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand. Contented Toil, and hospitable Care, And kind connubial Tenderness, are there ; And Piety with wishes placed above, And steady Loyalty, and faithful Love.
Seite 259 - And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery. By torch and trumpet fast arrayed, Each horseman drew his battle-blade, And furious every charger neighed To join the dreadful revelry. Then shook the hills, with thunder riven ; Then rush'd the steed, to battle driven ; And, louder than the bolts of Heaven, Far flash'd the red artillery.
Seite 307 - Paradise Lost is one of the books which the reader admires and lays down, and forgets to take up again. None ever wished it longer than it is. Its perusal is a duty rather than a pleasure. We read Milton for instruction, retire harassed and overburdened, and look elsewhere for recreation; we desert our master and seek for companions.
Seite 256 - AT the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly To the lone vale we loved, when life shone warm in thine eye ; And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of air To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to me there And tell me our love is remember'd.
Seite 59 - But by the grace of God I am what I am : and his grace which was bestowed upon me was not in vain ; but I laboured more abundantly than they all : yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me. 11 Therefore whether it were I or they, so we preach, and so ye believed.
Seite 209 - Is now the labour of my thoughts ; 'tis likeliest They had engaged their wandering steps too far ; And envious darkness, ere they could return, Had stole them from me : else, O thievish night, Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end, In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars. That nature hung in heaven, and fill'd their lamps With everlasting oil, to give due light To the misled and lonely traveller?

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