A Second Gallery of Literary PortraitsJ. Hogg, 1850 - 429 psl. |
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3 psl.
... less disturbed , but as deadly . Is the Reformation , thought the high hearts which then gave forth their thunder throbs in England , to turn out a mere sham ? Has all that bloody seed of martyrdom been sown in vain ? Whether is worse ...
... less disturbed , but as deadly . Is the Reformation , thought the high hearts which then gave forth their thunder throbs in England , to turn out a mere sham ? Has all that bloody seed of martyrdom been sown in vain ? Whether is worse ...
29 psl.
... less savage and more sublime . He gazes reverently , and from a distance , on the awful scene - whereas the fierce Florentine enters into its heart , goes down on his knees to watch more nar- rowly the degradations of the down - trodden ...
... less savage and more sublime . He gazes reverently , and from a distance , on the awful scene - whereas the fierce Florentine enters into its heart , goes down on his knees to watch more nar- rowly the degradations of the down - trodden ...
41 psl.
... less rush into fame - his miserable marriage - his amours -the glorious backgrounds which he chose for his tragic attitudes , Switzerland and Italy - his personal beauty- his very lameness - the odd and yet unludicrous compound which he ...
... less rush into fame - his miserable marriage - his amours -the glorious backgrounds which he chose for his tragic attitudes , Switzerland and Italy - his personal beauty- his very lameness - the odd and yet unludicrous compound which he ...
50 psl.
... less profound , and where every small shining pebble was a bright liar as to the real depth of the waters ; such pools are many of the poems of Byron , and , we may add , of Campbell . His dominion over the darker passions is one of the ...
... less profound , and where every small shining pebble was a bright liar as to the real depth of the waters ; such pools are many of the poems of Byron , and , we may add , of Campbell . His dominion over the darker passions is one of the ...
57 psl.
... less a man writing , than a man resigning his soul to his reader . To use Scott's beautiful figure " the stanzas fall off as easily as the leaves from the autumnal tree . " You stand under a shower of withered gold . And in spite of the ...
... less a man writing , than a man resigning his soul to his reader . To use Scott's beautiful figure " the stanzas fall off as easily as the leaves from the autumnal tree . " You stand under a shower of withered gold . And in spite of the ...
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admiration amid beautiful Bulwer burning Byron called calm Carlyle character Christianity Cobbett Coleridge Crabbe criticism dark death deep divine Dr Johnson dream earnest earth Edinburgh Review eloquent Emerson eternal Eugene Aram fancy feeling Festus fire Foster genius George Dawson gloom Goethe grandeur heart heaven hell human humour imagination intellect Isaac Taylor John Sterling language lectures Leigh Hunt less light literary living Lochnagar look Macaulay melancholy Milton mind misery moral nature never night Paradise Paradise Lost passion peculiar poems poet poetical poetry popular praise profound prophet prose racter religion Sartor Resartus seems sense shadow Shakspere Shelley silent sincere song sorrow soul speak spirit spring 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
225 psl. - Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows ; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths 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...
19 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.
50 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.
227 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.
32 psl. - Adam the goodliest man of men since born His sons, the fairest of her daughters Eve.
378 psl. - Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! Let the dead Past bury its dead ! Act, act in the living Present ! Heart within, and God o'erhead ! /!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.
44 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.
20 psl. - I took it for a faery vision Of some gay creatures of the element, That in the colours of the rainbow live, And play i
282 psl. - Will the unicorn be willing to serve thee, Or abide by thy crib? Canst thou bind the unicorn with his band in the furrow? Or will he harrow the valleys after thee?
96 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...