A Second Gallery of Literary PortraitsJ. Hogg, 1852 - 330 psl. |
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admiration amid beautiful Bunyan burning Byron called calm Carlyle character Christianity Cobbett Coleridge Crabbe criticism dark death deep despair divine Dr Johnson dream earnest earth Edinburgh Review eloquent Emerson eternal Eugene Aram fancy feeling Festus fire Foster genius George Dawson gloom glory grandeur heart heaven hell human humour imagination immortal intellect Isaac Taylor John Bunyan language lectures Leigh Hunt less light literary living Lochnagar look Macaulay melancholy Milton mind misery moral mountains nature ness never night Paradise Lost passion peculiar Pilgrim's Progress poems poet poetical poetry popular praise profound prophet prose Quincey seems shadow Shakspere Shelley sincere song sorrow soul speak spirit stand stars strong style sublime sweet sympathy tears thing Thomas Carlyle Thomas De Quincey Thomas Macaulay thou thought tion true truth verse vision voice William Cobbett wonder words Wordsworth writings
Populiarios ištraukos
13 psl. - Typhon huge ending in snaky twine : Our Babe, to show His Godhead true, Can in His swaddling bands control the damned crew.
263 psl. - Down the dark future, through long generations, The echoing sounds grow fainter, and then cease ; And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations, I hear once more the voice of Christ say " Peace !" 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.
34 psl. - And thus I saw the horses in the vision, and them that sat on them, having breastplates of fire, and of jacinth, and brimstone: and the heads of the horses were as the heads of lions : and out of their mouths issued fire and smoke and brimstone.
155 psl. - Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down: It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho...
157 psl. - And one : * He had not wholly quench'd his power; A little grain of conscience made him sour.' At last I heard a voice upon the slope Cry to the summit, ' Is there any hope ? ' To which an answer peal'd from that high land, But in a tongue no man could understand ; And on the glimmering limit far withdrawn God made Himself an awful rose of dawn.
13 psl. - The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance, or breathed spell, Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
30 psl. - Never, lago. Like to the Pontic sea, Whose icy current and compulsive course Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on To the Propontic and the Hellespont ; Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace, Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love, Till that a capable and wide revenge Swallow them up. Now, by yond marble heaven, In the due reverence of a sacred vow [Kneels.
66 psl. - Thy habitation from eternity! 0 dread and silent Mount! I gazed upon thee, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought : entranced in prayer 1 worshipped the Invisible alone. Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody, So sweet, we know not we are listening to it...
152 psl. - Ancient founts of inspiration well thro' all my fancy yet. Howsoever these things be, a long farewell to Locksley Hall! Now for me the woods may wither, now for me the roof-tree fall. Comes a vapor from the margin, blackening over heath and holt, Cramming all the blast before it, in its breast a thunderbolt. Let it fall on Locksley Hall, with rain or hail, or fire or snow; For the mighty wind arises, roaring seaward, and I go.
151 psl. - When the centuries behind me like a fruitful land reposed ; When I clung to all the present for the promise that it closed : When I...