Chambers's Cyclopaedia of English Literature: A History Critical and Biographical of Authors in the English Tongue from the Earliest Times Till the Present Day, with Specimens of Their Writing, Volume 3W. & R. Chambers, 1903 - Authors, English |
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Page 17
... less interesting parts of his work ; it may be observed , however , that the later poems , which are seldom read , include many things like those of 1800 and 1807 : one of them , that may be called his last word , written in his seventy ...
... less interesting parts of his work ; it may be observed , however , that the later poems , which are seldom read , include many things like those of 1800 and 1807 : one of them , that may be called his last word , written in his seventy ...
Page 32
... less subject to the fault of over- describing , or better know the point at which a reader's imagination should be left to its own activity ; but the images which he does supply are placed directly in our view , under a full noonday ...
... less subject to the fault of over- describing , or better know the point at which a reader's imagination should be left to its own activity ; but the images which he does supply are placed directly in our view , under a full noonday ...
Page 33
... less exacting kind , like Jock o ' Hazeldean and Donald Caird , and the noble lyrics in the old- fashioned reflective style of the eighteenth century , recitative rather than lyrical - the poems of the Ettrick sunset , ' The Sun upon ...
... less exacting kind , like Jock o ' Hazeldean and Donald Caird , and the noble lyrics in the old- fashioned reflective style of the eighteenth century , recitative rather than lyrical - the poems of the Ettrick sunset , ' The Sun upon ...
Page 36
... Less bright , and less , was flung ; The evening gale had scarce the power To wave it on the donjon tower , So heavily it hung . The scouts had parted on their search , The castle gates were barred ; Above the gloomy portal arch ...
... Less bright , and less , was flung ; The evening gale had scarce the power To wave it on the donjon tower , So heavily it hung . The scouts had parted on their search , The castle gates were barred ; Above the gloomy portal arch ...
Page 49
... less likely authors . The original notion of the piece ( not without parallels in Dunbar , Ben Jonson , and others ) ... less vulgar and less elaborately funny , and they are read still . But the ' Simorg , ' the ' Glendoveers ...
... less likely authors . The original notion of the piece ( not without parallels in Dunbar , Ben Jonson , and others ) ... less vulgar and less elaborately funny , and they are read still . But the ' Simorg , ' the ' Glendoveers ...
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Popular passages
Page 428 - The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
Page 25 - There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore; — Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
Page 105 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild ; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine ; Fast-fading violets cover'd up in leaves ; And mid-May's eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
Page 139 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags Plying her needle and thread — Stitch ! stitch ! stitch ! In poverty, hunger and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, Would that its tone could reach the rich ! She sang this "Song of the Shirt.
Page 145 - I do not know what I may appear to the world, but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.
Page 104 - O for a draught of vintage, that hath been Cool'da long age in the deep-delved earth, Tasting of Flora...
Page 116 - The breath whose might I have invoked in song Descends on me ; my spirit's bark is driven Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given ; The massy earth and sphered skies are riven ! I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar ; Whilst burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.
Page 67 - My shaping spirit of Imagination. For not to think of what I needs must feel, But to be still and patient, all I can; And haply by abstruse research to steal From my own nature all the natural man — This was my sole resource, my only plan : Till that which suits a part infects the whole, And now is almost grown the habit of my soul.
Page 104 - MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, > Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk...
Page 17 - That on a wild secluded scene impress Thoughts of more deep seclusion ; and connect The landscape with the quiet of the sky.