A New Spirit of the Age, Volumen1

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Richard H. Horne
Smith, Elder and Company, 1844 - 343 páginas
 

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Página 178 - Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more ; Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore, In thy large recompense, and shalt be good To all that wander in that perilous flood. Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills, While the still morn went out with sandals grey : He touched the tender stops of various quills, With eager thought warbling his Doric lay : And now the sun had stretched out all the hills, 190 And now was dropt into the western bay.
Página 67 - Oh ! it is hard to take to heart the lesson that such deaths will teach, but let no man reject it, for it is one that all must learn, and is a mighty, universal truth. When Death strikes down the innocent and young, for every fragile form from which he lets the panting spirit free, a hundred virtues rise, in shapes of mercy, charity, and love, to walk the world and bless it. Of every tear that sorrowing mortals shed on such green graves, some good is born, some gentler nature comes.
Página 284 - It is always considered as a piece of impertinence in England, if a man of less than two or three thousand a year has any opinions at all upon important subjects...
Página 78 - ... to dive into the depths of dungeons: to plunge into the infection of hospitals ; to survey the mansions of sorrow and pain; to take the gauge and dimensions of misery, depression, and contempt; to remember the forgotten, to attend to the neglected, to visit the forsaken, and to compare and collate the distresses of all men in all countries.
Página 66 - ... the deaf, the blind, the lame, the palsied, the living dead in many shapes and forms, to see the closing of that early grave. What was the death it would shut in, to that which still could crawl and creep above it...
Página 66 - And now the bell — the bell she had so often heard by night and day, and listened to with solemn pleasure almost as a living voice — rung its remorseless toll for her, so young, so beautiful, so good. Decrepit age, and vigorous life, and blooming youth, and helpless infancy, poured forth — on crutches, in the pride of strength and health, in the full blush of promise, in the mere dawn of life — to...
Página 276 - For yet I lived like one not born to die ; A thriftless prodigal of smiles and tears, No hope I needed, and I knew no fears. But sleep, though sweet, is only sleep, and waking, I waked to sleep no more, at once o'ertaking The vanguard of my age, with all arrears Of duty on my back. Nor child, nor man, Nor youth, nor sage, I find my head is grey, For I have lost the race I never ran : A rathe December blights my lagging May ; And still I am a child, though I be old, Time is my debtor for my years...
Página 278 - What things have we seen Done at the Mermaid! heard words that have been So nimble and so full of subtle flame, As if that every one from whence they came Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life!
Página 283 - I see very little in my Reviews to alter or repent of: I always endeavoured to fight against evil, and what I thought evil then, I think evil now. I am heartily glad that all our disqualifying laws for religious opinions are abolished, and I see nothing in such measures but unmixed good and real increase of strength to our Establishment.
Página 275 - Long time a child, and still a child, when years Had painted manhood on my cheek, was I ; For yet I lived like one not born to die ; A thriftless prodigal of smiles and tears. No hope I needed , and I knew no fears. But sleep, though sweet, is only sleep, and waking, I waked to sleep no more, at once o'ertaking The vanguard of my age, with all arrears Of duty on my back. Nor cbild, nor man, Nor youth, nor sage, I find my head is grey, For I have lost the race I never ran, A rathe December blights...

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