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Sketches of English Literature, from the Fourteenth to the Present Century
Clara Lucas Balfour
Ограниченный просмотр - 2010
Sketches of English Literature, From the Fourteenth to the Present Century ...
Clara Lucas Balfour
Недоступно для просмотра - 2018
admirable Anne Askew beautiful Bible Caxton century Chaucer Christian Church cloth College dark death delight divine doth Ebenezer Elliott Edition eminent England English Engravings eyes Faery Queen father Fcap female writers Foolscap 8vo genius grace hath heart heaven Henry Kirke White HISTORY honour Jane Marcet Joanna Baillie John king knowledge Lady land language learned light literary literature live Lord Lord Byron Margaret Roper Milton mind modern moral morocco nature never noble numerous opinions period Petrarch poem poet poetic poetry Pope Post 8vo praise present principles printed prose Queen racter reader religion Royal sacred says Scriptures Shakspeare Sir Walter Scott sorrows soul Spenser spirit stanzas Swainson sweet taste tender thee thing Thomas Babington Macaulay thou thought tion translation TREATISE truth verse vols Volume wife woman Woodcuts words writings wrote young youth
Стр. 356 - The breath whose might I have invoked in song Descends on me ; my spirit's bark is driven Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given ; The massy earth and sphered skies are riven ! I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar ; Whilst burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.
Стр. 365 - The innocent brightness of a new-born Day Is lovely yet; The Clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober coloring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality; Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Стр. 152 - Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...
Стр. 127 - This many summers in a sea of glory ; But far beyond my depth ; my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Стр. 352 - All the earth and air With thy voice is loud, As when night is bare From one lonely cloud The moon rains out her beams, and Heaven is overflowed.
Стр. 124 - To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery ? O, yes it doth ; a thousand-fold it doth. And to conclude, — the shepherd's homely curds, His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, Is far beyond a prince's delicates, His viands sparkling in a golden cup, • His body couched in a curious bed, When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.
Стр. 154 - God's image; but he who destroys a good book, kills reason itself, kills the image of God, as it were, in the eye. Many a man lives a burden to the earth; but a good book is the precious lifeblood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life.
Стр. 128 - Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's...
Стр. 373 - That crazed that bold and lovely knight, And that he crossed the mountain-woods, Nor rested day nor night ; That sometimes from the savage den, And sometimes from the darksome shade, And sometimes starting up at once In green and sunny glade, — There came and look'd him in the face An angel beautiful and bright ; And that he knew it was a fiend...