The Literary History of England in the End of the Eighteenth and Beginning of the Nineteenth Century, Volumen3Macmillan and Company, 1882 |
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Página 13
... pain or vengeance . But criti- cism was a new art in those days , and though no more ferocious ( we think ) than now , was much more keenly felt . And the Edinburgh had the art of planting wounds so that they should sting and burn . The ...
... pain or vengeance . But criti- cism was a new art in those days , and though no more ferocious ( we think ) than now , was much more keenly felt . And the Edinburgh had the art of planting wounds so that they should sting and burn . The ...
Página 22
... painful one that the company of his own class was really not agreeable to Byron . He had accustomed himself to a freedom and self - indulgence incompatible with the restraints of society . It is easier for the lawless mind to " get on ...
... painful one that the company of his own class was really not agreeable to Byron . He had accustomed himself to a freedom and self - indulgence incompatible with the restraints of society . It is easier for the lawless mind to " get on ...
Página 43
... pain , so matter - of - fact , so commonplace , so angry and wretched , with still the same record of trivial things ... painful burden . The gates of society may be closed against him , but again there seems a chance for him in the ...
... pain , so matter - of - fact , so commonplace , so angry and wretched , with still the same record of trivial things ... painful burden . The gates of society may be closed against him , but again there seems a chance for him in the ...
Página 52
... pain . " We are not happy , sweet ! our state Is strange , and full of doubt and fear— More need of words that ills abate . Reserve or censure come not near Our sacred friendship , lest there be No solace left for thee or me . " Gentle ...
... pain . " We are not happy , sweet ! our state Is strange , and full of doubt and fear— More need of words that ills abate . Reserve or censure come not near Our sacred friendship , lest there be No solace left for thee or me . " Gentle ...
Página 59
... painful criticism and comment , especially in the latter part of his career ; but the others lived such upright and simple lives , as took all possibility of a sting out of every evil tongue , and vindicated the high office of poetry ...
... painful criticism and comment , especially in the latter part of his career ; but the others lived such upright and simple lives , as took all possibility of a sting out of every evil tongue , and vindicated the high office of poetry ...
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Términos y frases comunes
admiration Allan Cunningham amusing beautiful Bentham born brilliant Byron called cantos Castle Rackrent character Childe Harold contemporaries critics curious delightful died divine doubt England eyes fame father feeling Ford Abbey friends genial genius girl heart heaven hero honour human humour imagination interest Irish James Mill Jane Austen Jeremy Bentham Keats kind lady Lady Morgan Leigh Hunt less letters literary literature lived London Lord Lord Byron Mackintosh Maria Edgeworth melody mind misery Miss Edgeworth Moore moral mystery natural never noble Northanger Abbey pain Panopticon passion perhaps philosopher pleasure poem poet poetical poetry political poor Pride and Prejudice produced published reader says scarcely scene seems sentiment Shelley Shelley's society song soul Southey spirit story strange Susan Ferrier sweet thing thought tion touch verse voice vulgar wild wonderful write written young poet youth
Pasajes populares
Página 114 - Peace, peace ! he is not dead, he doth not sleep ! He hath awakened from the dream of life. 'Tis we who, lost in stormy visions, keep With phantoms an unprofitable strife, And in mad trance strike with our spirit's knife Invulnerable nothings.
Página 151 - BRIGHT star ! would I were steadfast as thou art— Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night. And watching, with eternal lids apart. Like Nature's patient sleepless Eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task Of pure ablution round earth's human shores...
Página 134 - Homer ruled as his demesne ; Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold : Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific — and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise — Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
Página 106 - My soul is an enchanted boat, Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing ; And thine doth like an angel sit Beside the helm conducting it, Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing.
Página 144 - Saturn, quiet as a stone, Still as the silence round about his lair; Forest on forest hung about his head Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there, Not so much life as on a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
Página 68 - The sky is changed! - and such a change! Oh night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman! 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!
Página 66 - Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven! If in your bright leaves we would read the fate Of men and empires, — 'tis to be forgiven, That in our aspirations to be great, Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, And claim a kindred with you; for ye are A beauty and a mystery, and create In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star.
Página 58 - Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again? Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang As if her song could have no ending; I saw her singing at her work, And o'er the sickle bending; — I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.
Página 262 - With deep affection • And recollection, I often think of Those Shandon bells, "Whose sounds so wild would. In the days of childhood, . . Fling round my cradle Their magic spells. On, this I ponder Where'er I wander, And thus grow fonder, Sweet Cork, of thee,— With thy bells of Shandon, That sound so grand, on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee.
Página 231 - Wow strain I can do myself like any now going ; but the exquisite touch which renders ordinary common-place things and characters interesting from the truth of the description and the sentiment is denied to me.