Fragments of Criticism

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J. Nichol, 1860 - Всего страниц: 244
 

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Стр. 154 - In love, if love be love, if love be ours, Faith and unfaith can ne'er be equal powers : Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all. ' " It is the little rift within the lute, That by and by will make the music mute, And ever widening slowly silence all.
Стр. 160 - And peradventure had he seen her first She might have made this and that other world Another world for the sick man ; but now The shackles of an old love straiten'd him, His honour rooted in dishonour stood, And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true.
Стр. 144 - The Sileni and Sylvans and Fauns, And the Nymphs of the woods and waves, To the edge of the moist river-lawns, And the brink of the dewy caves, And all that did then attend and follow, Were silent with love, as you now, Apollo, With envy of my sweet pipings.
Стр. 150 - Divinely through all hindrance finds the man Behind it, and so paints him that his face, The shape and colour of a mind and life, Lives for his children, ever at its best And fullest...
Стр. 161 - Sweet is true love tho' given in vain, in vain ; And sweet is death who puts an end to pain : I know not which is sweeter, no, not I. " Love, art thou sweet ? then bitter death must be: Love, thou art bitter ; sweet is death to me.
Стр. 119 - We get no good By being ungenerous, even to a book, And calculating profits . . so much help By so much reading. It is rather when We gloriously forget ourselves, and plunge Soul-forward, headlong, into a book's profound, Impassioned for its beauty and salt of truth — 'Tis then we get the right good from a book.
Стр. 165 - Yet think not that I come to urge thy crimes, I did not come to curse thee, Guinevere, I, whose vast pity almost makes me die To see thee, laying there thy golden head, My pride in happier summers, at my feet. The wrath which forced my thoughts on that fierce law, The doom of treason and the flaming death, (When first I learnt thee hidden here) is past.
Стр. 165 - Lo ! I forgive thee, as Eternal God Forgives : do thou for thine own soul the rest. But how to take last leave of all I loved ? 0 golden hair, with which I used to play Not knowing!
Стр. 86 - That low man seeks a little thing to do, Sees it and does it : This high man, with a great thing to pursue, Dies ere he knows it.
Стр. 165 - Let no man dream but that I love thee still. Perchance, and so thou purify thy soul, And so thou lean on our fair father Christ, Hereafter in that world where all are pure We two may meet before high God, and thou Wilt spring to me, and claim me thine, and know I am thine husband — not a smaller soul, Nor Lancelot, nor another. Leave me that, I charge thee, my last hope. Now must I hence. Thro...

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