Literary Leaves; Or, Prose and Verse Chiefly Written in India, Volume 1W.H. Allen & Company, 1840 - English literature |
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Page 80
... supposed , and is sometimes even unconsciously confounded with it . People are as apt to say that they fancy they see a particu- lar object as that they remember it . The past is tinged with a soft twilight lustre . It is this colour ...
... supposed , and is sometimes even unconsciously confounded with it . People are as apt to say that they fancy they see a particu- lar object as that they remember it . The past is tinged with a soft twilight lustre . It is this colour ...
Page 81
... supposed want of memory is often nothing more than a want of method . Desultory readers and thinkers generally com- plain of imperfect memories . The reason is , that their thoughts are in a state of chaos . Thus Montaigne , who was ...
... supposed want of memory is often nothing more than a want of method . Desultory readers and thinkers generally com- plain of imperfect memories . The reason is , that their thoughts are in a state of chaos . Thus Montaigne , who was ...
Page 146
... supposed merchant at the deplorably bad success of his poor bro- ther's published poems , adding in the freedom and plenitude of his confidence , a candid opinion ( which could not now , he ob- served , reach the ears of the person ...
... supposed merchant at the deplorably bad success of his poor bro- ther's published poems , adding in the freedom and plenitude of his confidence , a candid opinion ( which could not now , he ob- served , reach the ears of the person ...
Page 156
... exposed . It is certain that the characters of Atossa , Philomedé and Cloe , the only ones which are supposed to apply to particular individuals , were subse- " " quently introduced . It is said by Warton 156 THE ATOSSA BRIBE .
... exposed . It is certain that the characters of Atossa , Philomedé and Cloe , the only ones which are supposed to apply to particular individuals , were subse- " " quently introduced . It is said by Warton 156 THE ATOSSA BRIBE .
Page 159
... supposed that the letters of Bolingbroke , connected with the testimony of Walpole , have at all satisfied my mind of the guilt of Pope . But I was certainly at first a little staggered by them . Much , as Sir Roger de Coverley would ...
... supposed that the letters of Bolingbroke , connected with the testimony of Walpole , have at all satisfied my mind of the guilt of Pope . But I was certainly at first a little staggered by them . Much , as Sir Roger de Coverley would ...
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Common terms and phrases
admiration alluded amongst Anna Seward Atossa beauty Bolingbroke breast breath bright Chalkhill character Charlotte Smith charm cheerful Clearchus clouds conversation critics dear death delightful dreams Dryden Duchess of Marlborough E'en Earl of Marchmont egotism egotist Essay external face fair fame fancy feeling friendship genius gleam glorious glory happy harmony hath heart Horace Walpole human intellectual John Chalkhill Johnson labour Leigh Hunt less light lines literary look Lord Bolingbroke Lord Byron mankind Marchmont memory Milton mind Montaigne nature never o'er observed once passage passion perhaps Petrarch physiognomy pleasure poem poet poet's poetical poetry Pope Pope's praise prose reader remarks says scene seems Shakspeare silent Sir Egerton Brydges smile sonnet soul sound speak spirit stanza style sweet talk taste tender Thealma thine thing thou thought tion truth verse voice words writers
Popular passages
Page 278 - Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
Page 330 - Phoebus lifts his golden fire: The birds in vain their amorous descant join, Or cheerful fields resume their green attire. These ears, alas! for other notes repine; A different object do these eyes require; My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine; And in my breast the imperfect joys expire; Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer, And new-born pleasure brings to happier men; The fields to all their wonted tribute bear; To warm their little loves the birds complain. I fruitless mourn to him that...
Page 95 - Less than a god they thought there could not dwell Within the hollow of that shell That spoke so sweetly and so well. What passion cannot Music raise and quell!
Page 127 - Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be, In every work regard the writer's end, Since none can compass more than they intend; And if the means be just, the conduct true, Applause, in spite of trivial faults, is due.
Page 89 - Tis not enough no harshness gives offence, The sound must seem an echo to the sense. Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar...
Page 200 - CYRIACK, this three years' day these eyes, though clear, To outward view, of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot ; Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman.
Page 91 - Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.
Page 256 - See, what a grace was seated on this brow; Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; A station like the herald Mercury, New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; A combination, and a form, indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man : This was your husband.
Page 147 - Neither a borrower nor a lender be ; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
Page 95 - Now strike the golden lyre again: A louder yet, and yet a louder strain ! Break his bands of sleep asunder And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark, hark ! the horrid sound Has raised up his head : As awaked from the dead, And amazed he stares around. Revenge, revenge...