English Poetry from Blake to BrowningMethuen & Company, 1894 - Всего страниц: 204 |
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action Æschylus affections artist Author Ballads BARING GOULD beauty breath Burns Byron century character charm Childe Harold classic Coleridge Coleridge's colour Cowper criticism Crown 8vo Dante delight diction divine dramatic Edition emotion English poetry epic expression faith feeling genius give Goethe GORDON BROWNE grace Greek heart honours humour ideal ideas Illustrated imagination inspiring intellectual interest Keats Landor language Leigh Hunt less literature living lyric lyric poetry Lyrical Ballads MABEL ROBINSON master Matthew Arnold melody Milton mind moods moral never noble passion perfect perhaps philosophy Plato pleasure poems poet poet's poetic Pope prose pure qualities race reader revolution romantic Scott sense Shakespere Shelley Shelley's social song Sophocles soul Southey speak Spenser sphere spirit splendid style subjects Tennyson thee things thought tion true truth universal verse volume W. G. COLLINGWOOD words Wordsworth write
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Стр. 57 - through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder-shower ; and now The arena swims around him—he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won. ' He heard it, but he heeded not—his eyes Were with his heart, and that
Стр. 92 - Though fallen thyself, never to rise again, Live and take comfort. Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee ; air, earth and skies ; There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee ; thou hast great allies ; Thy friends are exultations, agonies And love, and man's unconquerable mind.
Стр. 56 - a thunderstorm among the Alps— ' Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder ! not from one lone cloud, But every mountain now hath found a tongue, And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud ! And this is in the night; most glorious night ! Thou wast not
Стр. 72 - twas like all instruments, Now like a lonely flute ; And now it is an angel's song That makes the heavens be mute. It ceased ; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon — A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Стр. 72 - Like one that on a lonesome road, Doth walk in fear and dread, And, having once turned round, walks on, And turns no more his head ; Because he knows a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread.
Стр. 69 - that a series of poems might be composed of two sorts. In the one the incidents and agents were to be, in part at least, supernatural, and the excellence aimed at was to consist in interesting the affections by the dramatic truth of such emotions as would naturally accompany such situations, supposing them real.
Стр. 57 - away : He recked not of the life he lost nor prize, But where his rude hut by the Danube lay ; There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother—he, their sire, Butchered to make a Roman holiday.
Стр. 102 - Ay, in the very temple of Delight Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine. Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine : His soul shall taste the sadness of her might, And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
Стр. 50 - He has outsoared the shadow of our night, Envy and calumny, and hate and pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again. From the contagion of the world's slow stain He is secure.
Стр. 63 - regrett'st thy youth, why live ? The land of honourable death Is here :—up to the field, and give Away thy breath! Seek out—less often sought than found— A soldier's grave, for thee the best; Then look around, and choose thy ground And take thy rest.