Thoughts on the PoetsC.S. Francis & Company, 1846 - 318 pages |
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Page 61
... hands the lyre explore ! Bright - eyed Fancy hovering o'er , Scatters from her pictured urn Thoughts that breathe and words that burn . The beauties and deficiencies of Gray , both as a man and a poet , are traceable to his fastidious ...
... hands the lyre explore ! Bright - eyed Fancy hovering o'er , Scatters from her pictured urn Thoughts that breathe and words that burn . The beauties and deficiencies of Gray , both as a man and a poet , are traceable to his fastidious ...
Page 69
... , we have again the image of Honour slightly varied : Blest youth , regardful of thy doom , Ærial hands shall build thy tomb , With shadowy trophies crown'd ; Whil'st Honour bathed in tears shall rove To sigh thy COLLINS : 69.
... , we have again the image of Honour slightly varied : Blest youth , regardful of thy doom , Ærial hands shall build thy tomb , With shadowy trophies crown'd ; Whil'st Honour bathed in tears shall rove To sigh thy COLLINS : 69.
Page 75
... hand was morbidly vain . He was weak enough to indulge an ambition for distinguish- ed acquaintance , and a most effeminate caprice swayed his attachments and enmities . Another prominent trait in- creased his resemblance to the female ...
... hand was morbidly vain . He was weak enough to indulge an ambition for distinguish- ed acquaintance , and a most effeminate caprice swayed his attachments and enmities . Another prominent trait in- creased his resemblance to the female ...
Page 86
... hand , and dallied with the most casual thoughts of the moment , as Hamlet talks about the " old true - penny in the cellerage , " when the idea of his father's spirit is weighing with awful mys- teriousness upon his heart , and amuses ...
... hand , and dallied with the most casual thoughts of the moment , as Hamlet talks about the " old true - penny in the cellerage , " when the idea of his father's spirit is weighing with awful mys- teriousness upon his heart , and amuses ...
Page 96
... hands in his pockets . A lover of music , he did not fatigue himself with blowing a flute or flourishing a fiddle bow , but kept an Æolian harp in his window , and listened to the nightingales . Lend me your song , ye nightingales ! oh ...
... hands in his pockets . A lover of music , he did not fatigue himself with blowing a flute or flourishing a fiddle bow , but kept an Æolian harp in his window , and listened to the nightingales . Lend me your song , ye nightingales ! oh ...
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Common terms and phrases
admiration affections Alfieri amid appear ardent associations attractive awakened bard Barry Cornwall beauty blank verse bosom breathe Byron calm character charm cheer chiefly Crabbe death delight destiny devoted diver rescued earnest eloquence exalted excited experience expression eyes faith fame fancy favourite feeling flowers genius gifted glow Goldsmith grace happy heart heaven honour hope human idea imagination impression influence interest Italy Keats labours language Leigh Hunt light literary live lover lyre Madame de Stael ment Metastasio mind misanthropy moral muse nature ness never noble o'er passion pathy peculiar Petrarch pleasure poems poet poet's poetical poetry Queen Mab rare remarkable reverence Revolt of Islam rhyme Rydal Mount scenes seems sense sensibility sentiment Shelley smile song soul spirit style sweet sympathy taste tender thee thing thou thought tion tone touching traits true truth verse versification Victor Alfieri woman Wordsworth writings young youth
Popular passages
Page 219 - Though I should gaze for ever On that green light that lingers in the west: I may not hope from outward forms to win The passion and the life, whose fountains are within.
Page 76 - Kent. Vex not his ghost. O, let him pass! He hates him That would upon the rack of this tough world Stretch him out longer.
Page 52 - See the wretch, that long has tost On the thorny bed of pain, At length repair his vigour lost, And breathe and walk again : The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise.
Page 234 - Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppress'd Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away ; Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day ; Blissfully haven'd both from joy and pain; Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray; Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain, As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.
Page 136 - 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 126 - Where the thin harvest waves its wither'd ears ; Rank weeds, that every art and care defy, Reign o'er the land and rob the blighted rye : There Thistles stretch their prickly arms afar, And to the ragged infant threaten war; There Poppies nodding, mock the hope of toil, There the blue Bugloss paints the sterile soil ; Hardy and high, above the slender sheaf, The slimy Mallow waves her silky leaf; O'er the young shoot the Charlock throws a shade, And clasping Tares cling round the sickly blade ; With...
Page 90 - I care not, fortune, what you me deny ; You cannot rob me of free nature's grace ; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shows her brightening face, You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve : Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave : Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can me bereave.
Page 176 - MINE be a cot beside the hill ; A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear; A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall shall linger near. The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch, Shall twitter from her clay-built nest; Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, And share my meal, a welcome guest.
Page 207 - But for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain-light of all our day, Are yet a master-light of all our seeing; Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal silence...
Page 298 - Father, Thy hand Hath reared these venerable columns. Thou Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down Upon the naked earth, and forthwith rose All these fair ranks of trees. They in Thy sun Budded, and shook their green leaves in Thy breeze, And shot towards heaven. The centuryliving crow, Whose birth was in their tops, grew old and died...