The Cambridge History of English Literature, Volume 8

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Sir Adolphus William Ward, Alfred Rayney Waller
University Press, 1916 - English literature

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Page 30 - He had not wholly quench'd his power ; A little grain of conscience made him sour." At last I heard a voice upon the slope Cry to the summit, " Is there any hope ? " To which an answer peal'd from that high land, But in a tongue no man could understand ; And on the glimmering limit far withdrawn God made Himself an awful rose of dawn.
Page 97 - Wouldst thou be as these are? Live as they. " Unaffrighted by the silence round them, Undistracted by the sights they see, These demand not that the things without them Yield them love, amusement, sympathy.
Page 95 - Wandering between two worlds, one dead, The other powerless to be born, With nowhere yet to rest my head, Like these, on earth I wait forlorn. Their faith, my tears, the world deride; I come to shed them at their side.
Page 95 - Not as their friend, or child, I speak ! But as, on some far northern strand, Thinking of his own Gods, a Greek In pity and mournful awe might stand Before some fallen Runic stone — For both were faiths, and both are gone.
Page 101 - St Paul and Protestantism (1870), Literature and Dogma (1873), God and the Bible (1875) and Last Essays on Church and Religion (1877).
Page 106 - The sense that every struggle brings defeat Because Fate holds no prize to crown success ; That all the oracles are dumb or cheat Because they have no secret to express ; That none can pierce the vast black veil uncertain Because there is no light beyond the curtain ; That all is vanity and nothingness.
Page 106 - For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, Seem here no painful inch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Comes silent, flooding in, the main. And not by eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light; In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, But westward, look, the land is bright.
Page 28 - PART II. THERE she weaves by night and day A magic web with colours gay. She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott. And moving thro' a mirror clear That hangs before her all the year, Shadows of the world appear.
Page 22 - The only happiness a brave man ever troubled himself with asking much about was, happiness enough to get his work done. Not " I can't eat !" but " I can't work !" that was the burden of all wise complaining among men. It is, after all, the one unhappiness of a man, That he cannot work ; that he cannot get his destiny as a man fulfilled.
Page 398 - ... ticked slowly in the winter evenings. We belated historians must not linger after his example ; and if we did so, it is probable that our chat would be thin and eager, as if delivered from a campstool in a parrot-house.

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