Duffy's Hibernian magazine, Volym 1–2

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Sida 245 - Ah! Then, if mine had been the Painter's hand, To express what then I saw, and add the gleam, The light that never was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the Poet's dream; I would have planted thee, thou hoary Pile Amid a world how different from this!
Sida 245 - ... have the dew upon them. His muse, at least when in her strength of wing, and when she hovers aloft in her proper element : Makes audible a linked lay of truth, Of truth profound a sweet continuous lay, Not learnt, but native, her own natural notes!
Sida 245 - Fourth ; the perfect truth of nature in his images and descriptions, as taken immediately from nature, and proving a long and genial intimacy with the very spirit which gives the physiognomic expression to all the works of nature.
Sida 245 - Three years she grew in sun and shower, &c. Fifth: a meditative pathos, a union of deep and subtle thought with sensibility; a sympathy with man as man; the sympathy indeed of a contemplator, rather than a fellowsufferer or co-mate...
Sida 245 - Last, and pre-eminently, I challenge for this poet the gift of IMAGINATION in the highest and strictest sense of the word. In the play of Fancy Wordsworth, to my feelings, is not always graceful, and sometimes recondite. The likeness is occasionally too strange, or demands too peculiar a point of view, or is such as appears the creature of pre-determined research, rather than spontaneous presentation. Indeed his fancy seldom displays itself, as mere and unmodified fancy.
Sida 197 - TAKE, proud ambition, take thy fill Of pleasures won through toil or crime ; Go, learning, climb thy rugged hill, And give thy name to future time : Philosophy, be keen to see Whate'er is just, or false, or vain, Take each thy meed, but, oh! give me To range my mountain glens again. Pure was the breeze that fann'd my cheek, As o'er Knockmany's brow I went ; When every lonely dell could speak In airy music, vision sent : False world, I hate thy cares and thee, I hate the treacherous haunts of men...
Sida 333 - I walked entranced Through a land of Morn : The sun, with wondrous excess of light, Shone down and glanced Over seas of corn And lustrous gardens aleft and right. Even in the clime Of resplendent Spain, Beams no such sun upon such a land ; But it was the time, 'Twas in the reign, Of Cahal Mor of the Wine-red Hand.
Sida 481 - As the husband is, the wife is : thou art mated with a clown, And the grossness of his nature will have weight to drag thee down. He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force, Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.
Sida 284 - Peace! and no longer from its brazen portals The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies! But, beautiful as songs of the immortals. The holy melodies of love arise.
Sida 480 - Ruff and honours (alias slamm) and Whist are games so commonly known in England, in all parts thereof, that every child almost of eight years old hath a competent knowledge in that recreation.

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