Cyclopædia of English Literature: A History, Critical and Biographical, of British Authors, from the Earliest to the Present Times, Volym 2Robert Chambers W. and R. Chambers, 1844 - 4 sidor |
Från bokens innehåll
Resultat 1-5 av 97
Sida 6
... voice was thunder , hail , and smoke . He spake ; the cleaving waters fled , And stars beheld the ocean's bed : While the great Master strikes his lyre , You see the frighted floods retire : In heaps the frighted billows stand , Waiting ...
... voice was thunder , hail , and smoke . He spake ; the cleaving waters fled , And stars beheld the ocean's bed : While the great Master strikes his lyre , You see the frighted floods retire : In heaps the frighted billows stand , Waiting ...
Sida 18
... voice in dreadful thunder speaks , And oft at dawn , deep noon , or falling eve , By brooks and groves in hollow - whispering gales . Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfined , And spreads a common feast for all that lives . In Winter ...
... voice in dreadful thunder speaks , And oft at dawn , deep noon , or falling eve , By brooks and groves in hollow - whispering gales . Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfined , And spreads a common feast for all that lives . In Winter ...
Sida 19
... voice , oft breaking clear , At solemn pauses , through the swelling base ; And , as each mingling flame increases each , In one united ardour rise to heaven . Or if you rather choose the rural shade , And find a fane in every sacred ...
... voice , oft breaking clear , At solemn pauses , through the swelling base ; And , as each mingling flame increases each , In one united ardour rise to heaven . Or if you rather choose the rural shade , And find a fane in every sacred ...
Sida 25
... voice the woods returning , But lang ere night the spear was flown That slew my love , and left me mourning . What can my barbarous barbarous father do , But with his cruel rage pursue me ? My lover's blood is on thy spear , How canst ...
... voice the woods returning , But lang ere night the spear was flown That slew my love , and left me mourning . What can my barbarous barbarous father do , But with his cruel rage pursue me ? My lover's blood is on thy spear , How canst ...
Sida 28
... voice . How nations sink , by darling schemes oppressed , When vengeance listens to the fool's request . Fate wings with every wish the afflictive dart , Each gift of nature , and each grace of art , With fatal heat impetuous courage ...
... voice . How nations sink , by darling schemes oppressed , When vengeance listens to the fool's request . Fate wings with every wish the afflictive dart , Each gift of nature , and each grace of art , With fatal heat impetuous courage ...
Andra upplagor - Visa alla
Vanliga ord och fraser
ancient appeared beauty beneath blank verse breast breath bright character charms clouds Colonsay dark dear death deep delight Dr Johnson earth England fair fame fancy father fear feel flowers genius grace grave green hand happy hast hear heard heart heaven Henry Kirke White hill honour hope Horace Walpole hour human king labour Lady light live lonely look Lord Lord Byron mind moral morning mountains muse native nature never night o'er pain passion peace pleasure poem poet poetical poetry praise pride published racter rill Rodmond round scene Scotland seems shade sigh Sir Walter Scott sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit stream style sweet taste tears tender thee thou thought tion Tom Jones Twas uncle Toby vale verse virtue voice wandering wave wild wind young youth
Populära avsnitt
Sida 325 - MILTON ! thou should'st be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart : Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea : Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou...
Sida 327 - Is lightened : — that serene and blessed mood, In which the affections gently lead us on. — Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul : While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
Sida 56 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech, That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noon-tide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Sida 382 - BREATHES there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand? If such there breathe, go, mark him well; For him no minstrel raptures swell ; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim, — Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly...
Sida 406 - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease; For summer has o'erbrimmed their clammy cells. Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor...
Sida 398 - And the crimson pall of eve may fall From the depth of heaven above, With wings folded I rest on mine airy nest As still as a brooding dove. That orbed maiden with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor By the midnight breezes strewn ; And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, Which only the angels hear, May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, The stars peep behind her and peer...
Sida 410 - But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow. We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow. Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him,— But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Sida 340 - twas like all instruments, Now like a lonely flute; And now it is an angel's song, That makes the heavens be mute. It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Sida 406 - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific — and all his men Looked at each other with a wild surmise: Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
Sida 340 - Like one, that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round walks on, And turns no more his head; Because he knows, a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread.