The Literary History of England in the End of the Eighteenth and Beginning of the Nineteenth Century, Volume 3Macmillan and Company, 1889 - English literature |
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Page 5
... verses declared to " feed , " and of the " critics who carouse " at " the banquets spread at Holland House . " All the members of the belligerent band of the Edinburgh Review were to be found there by right of their party , just as , in ...
... verses declared to " feed , " and of the " critics who carouse " at " the banquets spread at Holland House . " All the members of the belligerent band of the Edinburgh Review were to be found there by right of their party , just as , in ...
Page 6
... verses , of whom Rogers says that " none of the talkers I meet in London society can slide into a brilliant thing with such readiness as he does " a quality which of itself was recommendation enough . The representative of poetry in ...
... verses , of whom Rogers says that " none of the talkers I meet in London society can slide into a brilliant thing with such readiness as he does " a quality which of itself was recommendation enough . The representative of poetry in ...
Page 9
... verse which was satire rather than poetry , and Gifford uttering from his corner , in the same breath with the Baviads and Mæviads , a sentimental song which was not much less ornate and feeble than the chirpings of the poor little ...
... verse which was satire rather than poetry , and Gifford uttering from his corner , in the same breath with the Baviads and Mæviads , a sentimental song which was not much less ornate and feeble than the chirpings of the poor little ...
Page 10
... verses of which he thought nothing , but which turned out to be no less a thing than the first part of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage . This young Lord Byron was twenty - three , and one of the most forlorn beings imaginable , though ...
... verses of which he thought nothing , but which turned out to be no less a thing than the first part of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage . This young Lord Byron was twenty - three , and one of the most forlorn beings imaginable , though ...
Page 12
... steel , is de- scribed as " the meanest object of the lowly group , " and his " verse of all but childish prattle void : " and Cole- " the ridge " to turgid ode and tumid stanza 12 [ CHAP . I. THE LITERARY HISTORY OF.
... steel , is de- scribed as " the meanest object of the lowly group , " and his " verse of all but childish prattle void : " and Cole- " the ridge " to turgid ode and tumid stanza 12 [ CHAP . I. THE LITERARY HISTORY OF.
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admiration Allan Cunningham amusing beautiful Bentham born brilliant Byron called canto 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 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 melodious mind misery Miss Austen Miss Edgeworth Moore moral mysterious nature never noble Northanger Abbey pain 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 vulgar wild wonderful write young poet youth
Popular passages
Page 127 - 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...
Page 89 - 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.
Page 57 - 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!
Page 97 - He is made one with Nature : there is heard His voice in all her music, from the moan Of thunder, to the song of night's sweet bird ; He is a presence to be felt and known In darkness and in light, from herb and stone, Spreading itself where'er that Power may move Which has withdrawn his being to its own ; Which wields the world with never wearied love, Sustains it from beneath, and kindles it above.
Page 196 - 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.
Page 97 - tis Death is dead, not he ; Mourn not for Adonais. — Thou young Dawn, Turn all thy dew to splendour, for from thee The spirit thou lamentest is not gone...
Page 90 - This Poem was chiefly written upon the mountainous ruins of the Baths of Caracalla, among the flowery glades, and thickets of odoriferous blossoming trees, which are extended in ever winding labyrinths upon its immense platforms and dizzy arches suspended in the air. The bright blue sky of Rome, and the effect of the vigorous awakening spring in that divinest climate, and the new life with which it drenches the spirits even to intoxication, were the inspiration of this drama.
Page 54 - Jura, whose capt heights appear Precipitously steep ; and drawing near, There breathes a living fragrance from the shore, Of flowers yet fresh with childhood ; on the ear Drops the light drip of the suspended oar, Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol more...
Page 131 - She sings the wild song of her dear native plains, Every note which he loved awaking — Ah '. little they think, who delight in her strains, How the heart of the minstrel is breaking...
Page 120 - After regarding it steadfastly, he looked up in my face with a calmness of countenance that I can never forget, and said, ' I know the colour of that blood — it is arterial blood — I cannot be deceived in that colour — that drop of blood is my deathwarrant — I must die.