The Modern British Essayists: Talfourd, T.N. Critical and miscellaneous writings. Stephen, James. Critical and miscellaneous essaysA. Hart, 1852 |
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Стр. 5
... heart of man which inspires real self - sacrifice ; but it is better even to be moved by its tenderness , than wholly to be ignorant of the joy of natural tears . How many are there for whom poesy has no charm , and who have derived ...
... heart of man which inspires real self - sacrifice ; but it is better even to be moved by its tenderness , than wholly to be ignorant of the joy of natural tears . How many are there for whom poesy has no charm , and who have derived ...
Стр. 9
... heart to appreciate and feel them . Too often , indeed , are the sim- plicities of nature and the native tendernesses of the soul nipped and chilled by those anxie- ties which lie on them " like an untimely frost . " " The world is too ...
... heart to appreciate and feel them . Too often , indeed , are the sim- plicities of nature and the native tendernesses of the soul nipped and chilled by those anxie- ties which lie on them " like an untimely frost . " " The world is too ...
Стр. 10
... heart has tasted , and which nothing afterwards in life could equal , and partly by the certainty that she must either become guilty or continue wretched . Nothing can be at once sweeter and more affecting than her ecstatic dream after ...
... heart has tasted , and which nothing afterwards in life could equal , and partly by the certainty that she must either become guilty or continue wretched . Nothing can be at once sweeter and more affecting than her ecstatic dream after ...
Стр. 12
... heart of the poet is all in all - and the visi- ble objects of his love are not dear to us for their own colours or forms , but for the senti- ment which he has linked to them , and whichly distinguished by the number , the spirit , and ...
... heart of the poet is all in all - and the visi- ble objects of his love are not dear to us for their own colours or forms , but for the senti- ment which he has linked to them , and whichly distinguished by the number , the spirit , and ...
Стр. 13
... heart of man is , in spite of its strangest debasements and perversions . How does the inimitable portrait of Claverhouse at first excite our hatred for that carelessness of human misery , that con- tempt for the life of his fellows ...
... heart of man is , in spite of its strangest debasements and perversions . How does the inimitable portrait of Claverhouse at first excite our hatred for that carelessness of human misery , that con- tempt for the life of his fellows ...
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admiration affections amidst Angelique appear Baxter beauty breathe character Christian church common court criticism death deep delight divine Don Francis duchess of Longueville earth EDINBURGH REVIEW Elgiva eloquence eternal excite exhibit exquisite faculties faith fancy favour fear feel friends genius gentle give glory grace habits heart heaven holy honour hope House of Commons human Iago imagination immortal inspired intellectual Jesuits justice king labours Lady Mary Shepherd language learned less living Lord Lord Byron Lord Eldon Lord Stowell Luther mankind ment mighty mind moral nature ness never noble object once Othello passion poet poetry Port-Royal praise racter regard rendered repose reverence Richard Baxter sacred scarcely scene seems sense Shakspeare sion solemn soul spirit strange sublime success sympathy things thought tion tragedy triumph truth virtue voice Wilberforce wisdom words writings Xavier youth
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Стр. 155 - Almighty hath not built Here for his envy, will not drive us hence: Here we may reign secure, and, in my choice, To reign is worth ambition, though in hell: Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven.
Стр. 54 - What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, 80 That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Стр. 56 - Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind.
Стр. 55 - Hence in a season of calm weather Though inland far we be, Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the Children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
Стр. 154 - A forest huge of spears; and thronging helms Appear'd, and serried shields, in thick array, Of depth immeasurable. Anon they move In perfect phalanx, to the Dorian mood Of flutes and soft recorders; such as raised To height of noblest temper heroes old, Arming to battle; and, instead of rage, Deliberate valour breathed, firm, and unmoved With dread of death, to flight or foul retreat...
Стр. 154 - He scarce had ceased, when the superior fiend Was moving toward the shore: his ponderous shield, Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, Behind him cast; the broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views, At evening, from the top of Fesole, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe.
Стр. 57 - Ah why,' said Ellen, sighing to herself, ' Why do not words, and kiss, and solemn pledge ; ' And nature that is kind in woman's breast, ' And reason that in man is wise and good, ' And fear of him who is a righteous judge ; ' Why do not these prevail for human life, ' To keep two hearts together, that began ' Their spring-time with one love, and that have need ' Of mutual pity and forgiveness, sweet ' To grant, or be received; while that poor bird...
Стр. 54 - An appetite ; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye. That time is past, And all its aching joys are now no more, And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this Faint I, nor mourn, nor murmur ; other gifts Have followed ; for such loss, I would believe, Abundant recompense.
Стр. 55 - But for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which be they what they may, Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our seeing...
Стр. 51 - Maimed, mangled by inhuman men; Or thou upon a desert thrown Inheritest the lion's den; Or hast been summoned to the deep, Thou, thou and all thy mates, to keep An incommunicable sleep.