Studies in English and American LiteratureAinsworth, 1900 - 599 pages |
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Page 38
... sweet glut had arisen in him . But it was not for him after that night to eat more of mankind . The wretched wight seized quickly a sleeping warrior , slit him unawares , bit his bone - locker , drank his blood , in morsels swallowed ...
... sweet glut had arisen in him . But it was not for him after that night to eat more of mankind . The wretched wight seized quickly a sleeping warrior , slit him unawares , bit his bone - locker , drank his blood , in morsels swallowed ...
Page 78
... sweet the sleep , how contentful the whole life is of him that neither deviseth mischief against others nor suspects any to be contrived against himself ! And contrariwise , how ungrateful and loathsome a thing it is to abide in a state ...
... sweet the sleep , how contentful the whole life is of him that neither deviseth mischief against others nor suspects any to be contrived against himself ! And contrariwise , how ungrateful and loathsome a thing it is to abide in a state ...
Page 79
... sweet- ness , in their luster ; rest corrupting , debasing , and defiling them . If the water runneth , it holdeth clear , sweet , and fresh ; but stagnation turneth it into a noisome puddle : if the air be fanned by winds , it is pure ...
... sweet- ness , in their luster ; rest corrupting , debasing , and defiling them . If the water runneth , it holdeth clear , sweet , and fresh ; but stagnation turneth it into a noisome puddle : if the air be fanned by winds , it is pure ...
Page 80
... sweet effusions of a man who has shown more genius , and more of the spirit of a true poet , in wri- ting a little prose book on angling , than many a rimer has shown in ponderous works of verse . The talk about angling seems to be a ...
... sweet effusions of a man who has shown more genius , and more of the spirit of a true poet , in wri- ting a little prose book on angling , than many a rimer has shown in ponderous works of verse . The talk about angling seems to be a ...
Page 81
... sweet loud music out of her little instrumental throat , that it might make mankind to think miracles are not ceased . He that at midnight , when the very laborer sleeps securely , should hear , as I have very often , the clear airs ...
... sweet loud music out of her little instrumental throat , that it might make mankind to think miracles are not ceased . He that at midnight , when the very laborer sleeps securely , should hear , as I have very often , the clear airs ...
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Other editions - View all
Studies in English and American Literature (Classic Reprint) Goodloe Harper Bell No preview available - 2018 |
Common terms and phrases
admiration ALFRED TENNYSON beauty behold beneath Beowulf bless bosom breath bright Cædmon calm century character charm cheerful clouds Cowper dark deep delight Describe earth English eyes feel flowers genius gentle give God's grave green hand happy HARRIET BEECHER STOWE hath hear heard heart heaven hills hope human influence James Russell Lowell James Thomson JOHN JAMES AUDUBON JOHN MILTON JOSEPH ADDISON king labor land language light literature live look Lord mind moral morning mountains nature never night o'er OLIVER GOLDSMITH pass poem poet poetry praise river Robert Southey scene seems shade silent sleep smile snow song sorrow soul sound speak spirit stood stream style sweet thee things THOMAS HOOD thou thought tion trees truth turn voice waves WILLIAM COWPER WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT wind wonder woods words writings wrote
Popular passages
Page 271 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Page 405 - The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, Sat by his fire, and talked the night away, Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done, Shouldered his crutch and showed how fields were won.
Page 316 - Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er! Such fate to suffering worth is...
Page 76 - And though a linguist should pride himself to have all the tongues that Babel cleft the world into, yet if he have not studied the solid things in them as well as the words and lexicons, he were nothing so much to be esteemed a learned man, as any yeoman or tradesman competently wise in his mother dialect only.
Page 354 - O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! 0 Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
Page 94 - At last divine Cecilia came, Inventress of the vocal frame ; The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, Enlarg'd the former narrow bounds, And added length to solemn sounds, With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before. Let old Timotheus yield the prize, Or both divide the crown ; He raised a mortal to the skies, She drew an angel down.
Page 422 - Over the heads of the rebel host. Ever its torn folds rose and fell On the loyal winds that loved it well ; And through the hill-gaps sunset light Shone over it with a warm good-night.
Page 123 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
Page 329 - The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, The big ha' Bible, ance his father's pride. His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare ; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care ; And " Let us worship God !
Page 407 - Imagination fondly stoops to trace The parlour splendours of that festive place: The white-washed wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnished clock that clicked behind the door; The chest contrived a double debt to pay, A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day...