Lectures on Poetry: Delivered at OxfordSmith, Elder, 1877 - Всего страниц: 292 |
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Стр. 2
... death ; and because , in this very poem by him so sup- pressed , we see of how little importance what is called posthu- mous fame appeared to Wordsworth , in comparison with all that is reserved for man , after he has passed beyond the ...
... death ; and because , in this very poem by him so sup- pressed , we see of how little importance what is called posthu- mous fame appeared to Wordsworth , in comparison with all that is reserved for man , after he has passed beyond the ...
Стр. 8
... death , dares not to ask a direct question , but seeks , by one innocent stratagem after another , to extract the truth without revealing himself . The Priest , how- ever , with whom he is discoursing , puts aside all these simple ...
... death , dares not to ask a direct question , but seeks , by one innocent stratagem after another , to extract the truth without revealing himself . The Priest , how- ever , with whom he is discoursing , puts aside all these simple ...
Стр. 10
... death . The memory of Leonard Ewbank , therefore , had not failed him ; the dark mountain cleft had changed its aspect and character , the brother- hood of the two fountains existed no more , and the vanishing of that old companionship ...
... death . The memory of Leonard Ewbank , therefore , had not failed him ; the dark mountain cleft had changed its aspect and character , the brother- hood of the two fountains existed no more , and the vanishing of that old companionship ...
Стр. 15
... can escape from what Porson once called , on a celebrated occasion , the ' Nature of Things.'1 ' Porson is reported to have said , on having his attention called to the Lastly , the death of that unknown Lucy , of WORDSWORTH . 15.
... can escape from what Porson once called , on a celebrated occasion , the ' Nature of Things.'1 ' Porson is reported to have said , on having his attention called to the Lastly , the death of that unknown Lucy , of WORDSWORTH . 15.
Стр. 16
... death of that unknown Lucy , of whom he never spoke , and about whom none of his friends ventured to question him , inflicted , perhaps , a wound , skinned over and healed at the surface , but ever bleeding inwardly , so as to dull the ...
... death of that unknown Lucy , of whom he never spoke , and about whom none of his friends ventured to question him , inflicted , perhaps , a wound , skinned over and healed at the surface , but ever bleeding inwardly , so as to dull the ...
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Banquo battle beauty beneath better breath bright Byron Caliban Caliph called character cloud colour criticism dark death Deioces doubt dream earth English Excursion eyes fancies feel flowers FRANCIS HASTINGS DOYLE French Revolution fresh genius grace Gravedona hand heart heaven Homer honour hope human Iago Iliad imagination influence instinct King Lady Lear least lecture less light living look Lord Lord Houghton Macbeth Marmion Mede memory mighty mind Miranda natural Neamet never night Noam noble Noble Kinsmen o'er once Othello overmastered passages passed passion perhaps Pindar play poem poet poetical poetry Prelude Prospero racter rose scene Scott SCOTT-CONTINUED seems sense Shakspere Shakspere's silent solemn song soul speech spirit strong sweet tell temper Tempest thee THÉOPHILE GAUTIER thou thought tion touch tragedy true truth verse Walter Scott whilst whole wild words Wordsworth youth
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Стр. 167 - And, to deal plainly, I fear I am not in my perfect mind. Methinks I should know you, and know this man; Yet I am doubtful; for I am mainly ignorant What place this is; and all the skill I have Remembers not these garments; nor I know not Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me; For (as I am a man) I think this lady To be my child Cordelia.
Стр. 26 - Magnificent The morning rose, in memorable pomp, Glorious as e'er I had beheld — in front, The sea lay laughing at a distance ; near, The solid mountains shone, bright as the clouds, Grain-tinctured, drenched in empyrean light ; And in the meadows and the lower grounds Was all the sweetness of a common dawn-- Dews, vapours, and the melody of birds, And labourers going forth to till the fields.
Стр. 185 - By just his horse's mane, a boy: you hardly could suspect — (So tight he kept his lips compressed, scarce any blood came through) You looked twice ere you saw his breast was all but shot in two. "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace we've got you Ratisbon!
Стр. 27 - Nor uninformed with Phantasy, and looks That threaten the profane; a pillared shade, Upon whose grassless floor of red-brown hue, By sheddings from the pining umbrage tinged Perennially — beneath whose sable roof Of boughs, as if for festal purpose decked With unrejoicing berries — ghostly Shapes May meet at noontide; Fear and trembling Hope, Silence and Foresight; Death the Skeleton And Time the Shadow ; — there to celebrate, As in a natural temple scattered o'er With altars undisturbed of...
Стр. 53 - I dipped my oars into the silent lake, And, as I rose upon the stroke, my boat Went heaving through the water like a swan When, from behind that craggy steep till then The horizon's bound, a huge peak, black and huge, As if with voluntary power instinct Upreared its head.
Стр. 27 - But worthier still of note Are those fraternal Four of Borrowdale, Joined in one solemn and capacious grove; Huge trunks ! and each particular trunk a growth Of intertwisted fibres serpentine Up-coiling, and inveterately convolved ; Nor uninformed with Phantasy, and looks That threaten the profane; — a pillared shade, Yew-trees.
Стр. 160 - Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these ? O, I have ta'en Too little care of this ! Take physic, pomp ; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou mayst shake the superflux to them, And show the heavens more just.
Стр. 196 - He's here in double trust : First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed ; then, as his host, Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself.
Стр. 107 - Seemed to have known a better day ; The harp, his sole remaining joy, Was carried by an orphan boy. The last of all the Bards was he, Who sung of Border chivalry...
Стр. 211 - Some heavenly music, (which even now I do,) To work mine end upon their senses, that This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, And, deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book.