Pictures of the Living Authors of BritainPartridge & Oakey, 1851 - 206 páginas |
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Página 21
... gives an individual value to every separate human being . " To which he answered scoffingly- Good soul , suppose I grant it thee , Who'll weep for thy deficiency ? ' Or will one beam be less intense , When thy peculiar difference Is ...
... gives an individual value to every separate human being . " To which he answered scoffingly- Good soul , suppose I grant it thee , Who'll weep for thy deficiency ? ' Or will one beam be less intense , When thy peculiar difference Is ...
Página 28
Thomas Powell. ' I can make no marriage present , Little can I give my wife , Love can make our cottage pleasant , And I love thee more than life . ' They by parks and lodges going , See the lordly castles stand ; Summer woods about them ...
Thomas Powell. ' I can make no marriage present , Little can I give my wife , Love can make our cottage pleasant , And I love thee more than life . ' They by parks and lodges going , See the lordly castles stand ; Summer woods about them ...
Página 34
... give you welcome ; not without redound Of fame and profit unto yourselves ye come , And he The first - fruits of the stranger : aftertime , And that full voice which circled round the grave Will rank you nobly , mingled up with me ...
... give you welcome ; not without redound Of fame and profit unto yourselves ye come , And he The first - fruits of the stranger : aftertime , And that full voice which circled round the grave Will rank you nobly , mingled up with me ...
Página 36
... give me the child , ' Ceased all in tremble ; piteous was the cry . " Cyril , wounded in the fight , raises himself on his knee , and implores of the princess to restore the child to her . She relents , but does not give it to the ...
... give me the child , ' Ceased all in tremble ; piteous was the cry . " Cyril , wounded in the fight , raises himself on his knee , and implores of the princess to restore the child to her . She relents , but does not give it to the ...
Página 37
... give one of his sonnets : SONNET , BY CHARLES TENNYSON . " I trust thee from my soul , oh ! Mary , dear . But oftimes when delight has fullest power , Hope treads too lightly for herself to hear , And doubt is ever by until the hour ; I ...
... give one of his sonnets : SONNET , BY CHARLES TENNYSON . " I trust thee from my soul , oh ! Mary , dear . But oftimes when delight has fullest power , Hope treads too lightly for herself to hear , And doubt is ever by until the hour ; I ...
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Pictures of the Living Authors of Britain (Classic Reprint) Thomas Powell Sin vista previa disponible - 2015 |
Términos y frases comunes
admirable Alfred Tennyson beauty Browning called Carlyle Caudle celebrated character Charles Dickens CHARLES MACKAY Clovernook cold critic DAMI dead death delight Dickens Douglas Jerrold drama dramatist dream earth ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING English eyes face faculty feel genius give grace hand head hear heart heaven hermit hero honour Horne Jerrold JOHN WESTLAND MARSTON labour lady laugh Leigh Hunt light listen living look Lord Macready manner mind Miss Barrett morning never night o'er Oliver Twist Paracelsus pass passion peculiar Philip Van Arteveldt play poem poet poet's poetical poetry Prichard RACH reader RICHARD HENRY HORNE Robert Browning Sartor Resartus scene seemed sense Shakspere Shakspere's singular sketch smile Sordello soul spirit style sweet Taylor tell Tennyson thee there's thing thou thought tion true truth verse voice volume wife woman words write
Pasajes populares
Página 31 - THERE is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass, Or night-dews on still waters between walls Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass; Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes; Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies. Here are cool mosses deep, And thro...
Página 82 - TIRED Nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep ! He, like the world, his ready visit pays Where Fortune smiles ; the wretched he forsakes ; Swift on his downy pinion flies from woe, And lights on lids unsullied with a tear.
Página 31 - Why are we weigh'd upon with heaviness, And utterly consumed with sharp distress, While all things else have rest from weariness ? All things have rest: why should we toil alone, We only toil, who are the first of things, And make perpetual moan, Still from one sorrow to another thrown: Nor ever fold our wings, And cease from wanderings, Nor steep our brows in slumber's holy balm; Nor hearken what the inner spirit sings,
Página 66 - Then off there flung in smiling joy, And held himself erect By just his horse's mane, a boy: You hardly could suspect — (So tight he kept his lips compressed, Scarce any blood came through) You looked twice ere you saw his breast Was all but shot in two. "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace We've got you Ratisbon!
Página 21 - This truth within thy mind rehearse, That in a boundless universe Is boundless better, boundless worse. 'Think you this mould of hopes and fears Could find no statelier than his peers In yonder hundred million spheres?' It spake, moreover, in my mind: 'Tho' thou wert scatter'd to the wind, Yet is there plenty of the kind.
Página 24 - Whatever crazy sorrow saith, No life that breathes with human breath Has ever truly longed for death. " 'Tis life, whereof our nerves are scant, Oh life, not death, for which we pant ; More life, and fuller, that I want.
Página 31 - We will return no more;" And all at once they sang, "Our island home Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam.
Página 30 - That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things. Drug thy memories, lest thou learn it, lest thy heart be put to proof, In the dead unhappy night, and when the rain is on the roof.
Página 31 - And taste, to him the gushing of the wave Far far away did seem to mourn and rave On alien shores...
Página 20 - To-day I saw the dragon-fly Come from the wells where he did lie. "An inner impulse rent the veil Of his old husk : from head to tail Came out clear plates of sapphire mail. "He dried his wings: like gauze they grew: Thro' crofts and pastures wet with dew A living flash of light he flew.