Modern Literature and Literary Men: Being a Second Gallery of Literary PortraitsAppleton, 1850 - 376 psl. |
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28 psl.
... hope , and degraded into the servile vassals of an infernal will , yet it is not so pleasing for us to contemplate the completed as it is the begun ruin . Around the former some rays of beauty continue to linger ; the lat- ter is ...
... hope , and degraded into the servile vassals of an infernal will , yet it is not so pleasing for us to contemplate the completed as it is the begun ruin . Around the former some rays of beauty continue to linger ; the lat- ter is ...
49 psl.
... hope- less rallied round to constitute him first magistrate over a city in flames - supreme ruler in a blasted and ruined realm . In one thing he was certainly a prophet ; namely , a prophet of evil . As misery was the secret sting of ...
... hope- less rallied round to constitute him first magistrate over a city in flames - supreme ruler in a blasted and ruined realm . In one thing he was certainly a prophet ; namely , a prophet of evil . As misery was the secret sting of ...
59 psl.
... hope to have again , such a feeling of the grandeur of this lower universe - such a sense of horrible sublimity . Nay , we question if there be a moun- tain in the empire , which , though seen in similar circum- stances , could awaken ...
... hope to have again , such a feeling of the grandeur of this lower universe - such a sense of horrible sublimity . Nay , we question if there be a moun- tain in the empire , which , though seen in similar circum- stances , could awaken ...
72 psl.
... hope which is not of the earth . And , at the close , we feel to the author all that strange grat- itude which our souls are constituted to entertain to those who have most powerfully wrung and tortured them . Would that Crabbe had ...
... hope which is not of the earth . And , at the close , we feel to the author all that strange grat- itude which our souls are constituted to entertain to those who have most powerfully wrung and tortured them . Would that Crabbe had ...
76 psl.
... Hope , " or " Don Ju- an , " a new abridgment . If ye must operate in this way , be it on " Madoc , " or the " Course of Time . " Generously leave room for " O'Connor's Child " in the poet's corner of a journal , or for " Eustace Grey ...
... Hope , " or " Don Ju- an , " a new abridgment . If ye must operate in this way , be it on " Madoc , " or the " Course of Time . " Generously leave room for " O'Connor's Child " in the poet's corner of a journal , or for " Eustace Grey ...
Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
Modern Literature & Literary Men Being a Second Gallery of Literary Portraits George Gilfillan Visos knygos peržiūra - 1860 |
Modern Literature and Literary Men Being a Second Gallery of Literary Portraits George Gilfillan Peržiūra negalima - 2021 |
Modern Literature and Literary Men Being a Second Gallery of Literary ... George Gilfillan Peržiūra negalima - 2015 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
admiration amid beautiful burning Byron called calm Carlyle character Christianity Cobbett Coleridge Crabbe criticism dark death deep divine dream earnest earth Ebenezer Elliot Edinburgh Review eloquent Emerson English eternal Eugene Aram fancy feeling fire Foster genius George Dawson gloom grandeur heart heaven hell human humor imagination intellect Isaac Taylor John Sterling language lectures Leigh Hunt less light literary living look Macaulay melancholy Milton mind misery moral morocco mountains nature never night Paradise Paradise Lost passion peculiar poems poet poetical poetry popular praise profound prophet prose readers religion Sartor Resartus seems sense shadow Shakspeare Shelley sincere song sorrow soul speak spirit stand stars strong style sublime sweet sympathy tears thing Thomas Carlyle Thomas Macaulay thou thought tion true truth verse vision voice Voltaire William Cobbett wonder words Wordsworth writings
Populiarios ištraukos
279 psl. - Prayer is the burden of a sigh ; The falling of a tear, The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near.
260 psl. - The many men so beautiful! And they all dead did lie: And a thousand thousand slimy things Lived on; and so did I.
24 psl. - Typhon huge ending in snaky twine : Our Babe, to show His Godhead true, Can in His swaddling bands control the damned crew.
24 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.
338 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.
248 psl. - Could I embody and unbosom now That which is most within me, could I wreak My thoughts upon expression, and thus throw Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings strong or weak, All that I would have sought, and all I seek, Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe into one word, And that one word were Lightning, I would speak ; But as it is, I live and die unheard, With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword.
29 psl. - Parthenon As the best gem upon her zone ; And Morning opes with haste her lids To gaze upon the Pyramids ; O'er England's Abbeys bends the sky As on its friends with kindred eye ; For, out of Thought's interior sphere These wonders rose to upper air, And nature gladly gave them place, Adopted them into her race, And granted them an equal date With Andes and with Ararat.
332 psl. - Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us, Footprints on the sands of time; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again.
91 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...
204 psl. - 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.