...a part of all that I have met. Yet all experience is an arch where through Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when...move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use ! As though to breathe were life.' Then comes the sketch of Telemachus,...

...In monumental mockery.' The Tennysonian Ulysses exclaims : — ' How dull it is to pause, to make^an end, To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use, As tho' to breathe were life ! ' The superiority of the copy to its model is visible at a glance. Unmistakeably the simile of the...

...am a part of all that I have met; , Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' Gleams that untravel1'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains...

...am a part of all that I have met : Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move." — TENNYSON. IT would be a mode of procedure quite un-English, to enter upon several consecutive colloquies...

...am a part of all that I have met : Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' Gleams that untravcll'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move." — TBNNYSON. IT would be a mode of procedure quite un-English, to enter upon several consecutive colloquies...

...lov'd me, and alone ; on shore, and when Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades Vext the dim sea ; 1 am become a name ; For always roaming with a hungry...move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unbumish'd, not to shine in use ! As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all too little,...

...of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery. Shakspeare, ' Troilus and Cressida,' III. iii. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use ! Tennyson, 'Ulysses.' E. YARDLEY. GEORGE WITHER. (See ante, p. 300.)—...

...am a part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move. " This is my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle — Well-loved of me,...

...of fashion, like a rusty mail in monumental mockery. Shakspeare, ' Troilus and Cressida,' III. iii. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished. Dot to shine in use ! Tennyson, 'Ulysses.' E. YARDLEY. QEOBGE WITHER. (See ante, p. 300.)...

...from work ; he was ever moved, in fact, by the purpose made manifest by Ulysses in Tennyson's lines : How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use. Just as in early life he had a remarkable command of chemistry, so...