Literary Leaves; Or, Prose and Verse Chiefly Written in India, Band 1W.H. Allen & Company, 1840 |
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Seite 13
... once familiar to the public , there is a vague and undefinable magic in his name that renders him an object of interest to his fellow - men . His person is shrouded in impenetrable obscurity , and they only catch his voice from out ...
... once familiar to the public , there is a vague and undefinable magic in his name that renders him an object of interest to his fellow - men . His person is shrouded in impenetrable obscurity , and they only catch his voice from out ...
Seite 22
... once from heaven , and sounds and thoughts Of human strife a mockery would seem Of Nature's mystic silence . Sacred dreams Unutterable , deep , and undefined , Now crowd upon the soul , and make us feel An intellectual contact with the ...
... once from heaven , and sounds and thoughts Of human strife a mockery would seem Of Nature's mystic silence . Sacred dreams Unutterable , deep , and undefined , Now crowd upon the soul , and make us feel An intellectual contact with the ...
Seite 24
... thousand mimic whirlpools chafe and boil , While fitfully up - sent from lucid depths Thick throngs of silver bubbles sparkle bright , Like diamonds in the pale beam of the moon . ON CHILDREN . Ah ! that once more I were 24 OCEAN SKETCHES .
... thousand mimic whirlpools chafe and boil , While fitfully up - sent from lucid depths Thick throngs of silver bubbles sparkle bright , Like diamonds in the pale beam of the moon . ON CHILDREN . Ah ! that once more I were 24 OCEAN SKETCHES .
Seite 25
David Lester Richardson. ON CHILDREN . Ah ! that once more I were a careless child . Coleridge . He plays yet like a young prentice the first day , and is not come to his task of melancholy . Bishop Earle . EVERY thing new or young has a ...
David Lester Richardson. ON CHILDREN . Ah ! that once more I were a careless child . Coleridge . He plays yet like a young prentice the first day , and is not come to his task of melancholy . Bishop Earle . EVERY thing new or young has a ...
Seite 31
... once stern and anxious , A small hand twitch- ed his coat behind . He turned slowly round , with a sullen and almost a savage brow . His eye fell upon the prettiest little human face that ever gleamed upon the earth . But the child's ...
... once stern and anxious , A small hand twitch- ed his coat behind . He turned slowly round , with a sullen and almost a savage brow . His eye fell upon the prettiest little human face that ever gleamed upon the earth . But the child's ...
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admiration alluded amongst Anna Seward Atossa beauty Bolingbroke breast breath bright Chalkhill character Charlotte Smith charm cheerful Clearchus clouds conversation critics dear death delightful dreams Dryden Duchess of Marlborough E'en Earl of Marchmont egotism egotist Essay external face fair fame fancy feeling friendship genius gleam glorious glory happy harmony hath heart Horace Walpole human intellectual John Chalkhill Johnson labour Leigh Hunt less light lines literary look Lord Bolingbroke Lord Byron mankind Marchmont memory Milton mind Montaigne nature never o'er observed once passage passion perhaps Petrarch physiognomy pleasure poem poet poet's poetical poetry Pope Pope's praise prose reader remarks says scene seems Shakspeare silent Sir Egerton Brydges smile sonnet soul sound speak spirit stanza style sweet talk taste tender Thealma thine thing thou thought tion truth verse voice words writers
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 278 - Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
Seite 330 - Phoebus lifts his golden fire: The birds in vain their amorous descant join, Or cheerful fields resume their green attire. These ears, alas! for other notes repine; A different object do these eyes require; My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine; And in my breast the imperfect joys expire; Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer, And new-born pleasure brings to happier men; The fields to all their wonted tribute bear; To warm their little loves the birds complain. I fruitless mourn to him that...
Seite 95 - Less than a god they thought there could not dwell Within the hollow of that shell That spoke so sweetly and so well. What passion cannot Music raise and quell!
Seite 127 - Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be, In every work regard the writer's end, Since none can compass more than they intend; And if the means be just, the conduct true, Applause, in spite of trivial faults, is due.
Seite 89 - Tis not enough no harshness gives offence, The sound must seem an echo to the sense. Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar...
Seite 200 - CYRIACK, this three years' day these eyes, though clear, To outward view, of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot ; Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman.
Seite 91 - Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.
Seite 256 - See, what a grace was seated on this brow; Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; A station like the herald Mercury, New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; A combination, and a form, indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man : This was your husband.
Seite 147 - Neither a borrower nor a lender be ; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
Seite 95 - Now strike the golden lyre again: A louder yet, and yet a louder strain ! Break his bands of sleep asunder And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark, hark ! the horrid sound Has raised up his head : As awaked from the dead, And amazed he stares around. Revenge, revenge...