The Quarterly Review, Том 185William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, William Smith, Sir John Murray IV, Rowland Edmund Prothero (Baron Ernle), George Walter Prothero John Murray, 1897 |
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... Rest , held at Paris , September 24 to 27 , 1889. Pre- sented to the House of Commons by command of Her Majesty , January 1891- · III . - 1 . Bulletin de Correspondance hellénique . 1882 . Athens , 2. Epikureische Schriften auf Stein ...
... Rest , held at Paris , September 24 to 27 , 1889. Pre- sented to the House of Commons by command of Her Majesty , January 1891- · III . - 1 . Bulletin de Correspondance hellénique . 1882 . Athens , 2. Epikureische Schriften auf Stein ...
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... , and lay down to rest on the easy pillows of scepticism . In such a mood he beheld the Roman Empire hastening to conversion under Constantine . What What else could that change be except a decline and Edward Gibbon . 5.
... , and lay down to rest on the easy pillows of scepticism . In such a mood he beheld the Roman Empire hastening to conversion under Constantine . What What else could that change be except a decline and Edward Gibbon . 5.
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... rest has often summoned me to the parade ' ; and his example encouraged the daily practise of hard and even excessive drinking which has sown in my constitution the seeds of the gout . ' To that not undignified visitor Gibbon , after ...
... rest has often summoned me to the parade ' ; and his example encouraged the daily practise of hard and even excessive drinking which has sown in my constitution the seeds of the gout . ' To that not undignified visitor Gibbon , after ...
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... rest , though not a third of the whole . The style of an author should be the image of his mind ' ; and if we read Gibbon's Corre- spondence we shall grant that no man ever expressed his own more accurately . But he could not , at the ...
... rest , though not a third of the whole . The style of an author should be the image of his mind ' ; and if we read Gibbon's Corre- spondence we shall grant that no man ever expressed his own more accurately . But he could not , at the ...
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... rest was something less painful and I reached this place half dead , but not seriously feverish or ill . I found a dinner - invitation from Lord Lucan ; but what are dinners to me ? I wish they did not know of my departure . I catch the ...
... rest was something less painful and I reached this place half dead , but not seriously feverish or ill . I found a dinner - invitation from Lord Lucan ; but what are dinners to me ? I wish they did not know of my departure . I catch the ...
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admiration army artists Balliol called century character Christian Church command crime death doubt Election enemy England English Epicurean Epicurus Epicurus's feeling followed foreign France French friends George von Frundsberg Gibbon give hand heart honour House of Commons human impressionism impressionist influence interest Jowett King La Chênaie labour Lady Jerningham Lamennais Landsknechts Lee-Metford less letters Liberal Liberal Unionists Lincoln living Lloyd Morgan London Lord Bathurst Lord Palmerston Lord Rosebery Lord's Day Lucretius matter ment military mind moral nation National Rifle Association nature never Norfolk offences once painted Palmerston Paris Parkman party passed pleasure poet political Pope popular present principle prison Psalms Queen question recognised Reformatory religion rifle Sabbath Scotland Scottish seems shooting spirit sport style things thou thought tion truth whole words writes young
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Стр. 174 - The good-morrow I wonder by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we loved? Were we not weaned till then, But sucked on country pleasures, childishly? Or snorted we in the seven sleepers' den? Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be. If ever any beauty I did see, Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee. And now good morrow to our waking souls, Which watch not one another out of fear; For love all love of other sights controls, 10 And makes one little room an everywhere.
Стр. 171 - When the morning stars sang together, and the sons of God shouted for joy.
Стр. 187 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too...
Стр. 184 - To one who has been long in city pent, 'Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven, — to breathe a prayer Full in the smile of the blue firmament.
Стр. 219 - In your hands, my dissatisfied fellow countrymen, and not in mine is the momentous issue of civil war. The Government will not assail you. You can have no conflict without being yourselves the aggressors. You have no oath registered in heaven to destroy the Government, while I shall have the most solemn one to "preserve, protect, and defend it.
Стр. 184 - IN a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity: The north cannot undo them, With a sleety whistle through them; Nor frozen thawings glue them From budding at the prime.
Стр. 189 - And they are gone: ay, ages long ago These lovers fled away into the storm. That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe, And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form Of witch, and demon, and large coffin-worm, Were long be-nightmared. Angela the old Died palsy-twitch'd, with meagre face deform ; The Beadsman, after thousand aves told, For aye unsought for slept among his ashes cold.
Стр. 28 - The style of an author should be the image of his mind, but the choice and command of language is the fruit of exercise. Many experiments were made before I could hit the middle tone between a dull chronicle and a rhetorical declamation...
Стр. 186 - But this is human life : the war, the deeds, The disappointment, the anxiety, Imagination's struggles, far and nigh, All human ; bearing in themselves this good, That they are still the air, the subtle food, To make us feel existence, and to show How quiet death is.
Стр. 30 - It was on the day, or rather night, of the 27th of June 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last lines of the last page, in a summer-house in my garden. After laying down my pen, I took several turns in a berceau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains. The air was temperate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waters, and all nature was silent. I will not dissemble the first emotions...