American Quarterly Review, Том 19Robert Walsh Carey, Lea & Carey, 1836 |
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Стр. 3
... writer , who , with this consciousness , settles to his labour , knowing , that , as his mind glows , its warmth is diffused through a thousand others ; that in distant countries he has form- ed friendships liable to none of the change ...
... writer , who , with this consciousness , settles to his labour , knowing , that , as his mind glows , its warmth is diffused through a thousand others ; that in distant countries he has form- ed friendships liable to none of the change ...
Стр. 4
... writer , nor display common thoughts in the charm and glare of uncommon language ; or become superficial , for the purpose of pleasing ; or bring from the mines of deep thought , all its ore ready polished for use . The world have , of ...
... writer , nor display common thoughts in the charm and glare of uncommon language ; or become superficial , for the purpose of pleasing ; or bring from the mines of deep thought , all its ore ready polished for use . The world have , of ...
Стр. 5
... writer : and that whatever my opinions might be in themselves , they were almost equi - distant from all the three prominent parties , the Pittites , Foxites , and the democrats . " Yet at this time , suffering all the crushing ...
... writer : and that whatever my opinions might be in themselves , they were almost equi - distant from all the three prominent parties , the Pittites , Foxites , and the democrats . " Yet at this time , suffering all the crushing ...
Стр. 19
... writer's ignorance , presume yourself ignorant of his understanding . " " This maxim he applies to the Timæus of Plato . -- - " Whatever I comprehend , impresses me with a reverential sense of the author's genius ; but there is a ...
... writer's ignorance , presume yourself ignorant of his understanding . " " This maxim he applies to the Timæus of Plato . -- - " Whatever I comprehend , impresses me with a reverential sense of the author's genius ; but there is a ...
Стр. 29
... writers either do not , or will not , understand us . We would except Latrobe ; but for the rest , none have gone beneath the surface , whether from want of intellect , or want of knowledge , may be questionable . They either flounder ...
... writers either do not , or will not , understand us . We would except Latrobe ; but for the rest , none have gone beneath the surface , whether from want of intellect , or want of knowledge , may be questionable . They either flounder ...
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Стр. 431 - tis true, I have gone here and there, And made myself a motley to the view, Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear, Made old offences of affections new.
Стр. 432 - In me. thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west ; Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire, Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by. This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
Стр. 424 - Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells: In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is: and hence for me, In sundry moods, 'twas pastime to be bound Within the Sonnet's scanty plot of ground; Pleased if some Souls (for such there needs must be) Who have felt the weight of too much liberty, Should find brief solace there, as I have found.
Стр. 425 - s not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come ; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Стр. 426 - When, in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries And look upon myself and curse my fate. Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd, Desiring this man's art and that man's scope.
Стр. 108 - Tears fell, when thou wert dying, From eyes unused to weep, And long where thou art lying Will tears the cold turf steep. When hearts, whose truth was proven Like thine, are laid in earth, There should a wreath be woven, To tell the world their worth...
Стр. 430 - It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea: Listen!
Стр. 277 - I do remember well the hour which burst My spirit's sleep : a fresh May-dawn it was, When I walked forth upon the glittering grass, And wept, I knew not why ; until there rose From the near schoolroom, voices, that, alas ! Were but one echo from a world of woes — The harsh and grating strife of tyrants and of foes.
Стр. 278 - While yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped Through many a listening chamber, cave and ruin, And starlight wood, with fearful steps pursuing Hopes of high talk with the departed dead.
Стр. 108 - From eyes unused to weep, And long where thou art lying, Will tears the cold turf steep. When hearts, whose truth was proven, Like thine, are laid in earth, There should a wreath be woven To tell the world their worth. And I, who woke each morrow To clasp thy hand in mine, Who shared thy joy and sorrow, Whose weal and woe were thine: It should be mine to braid it Around thy faded brow, But I've in vain essayed it, And feel I cannot now.