Literary Leaves; Or, Prose and Verse Chiefly Written in India, Bind 1W.H. Allen & Company, 1840 |
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Side 21
... face Of that far lake whose crystal mirror bears An image of my home ! Ah those white walls , Now flash their silent beauty on my soul , And , like a cheerful sun - burst on my way , Revive a transient joy ! VI . [ NIGHT . ] The day ...
... face Of that far lake whose crystal mirror bears An image of my home ! Ah those white walls , Now flash their silent beauty on my soul , And , like a cheerful sun - burst on my way , Revive a transient joy ! VI . [ NIGHT . ] The day ...
Side 27
... face betrays each emotion of its heart , and is as trans- parent as the silvery cloud - veil of a summer sun that shows all the light within . It is as fearless and as innocent in its waking hours as in its quiet slumbers . It loves ...
... face betrays each emotion of its heart , and is as trans- parent as the silvery cloud - veil of a summer sun that shows all the light within . It is as fearless and as innocent in its waking hours as in its quiet slumbers . It loves ...
Side 29
... face , as if assured of her hearty sympathy in his delight . It is a sweet employment to watch the first glimmering of the human mind , and to greet the first signs of joy that give life and animation to the passive beauty of an infant's ...
... face , as if assured of her hearty sympathy in his delight . It is a sweet employment to watch the first glimmering of the human mind , and to greet the first signs of joy that give life and animation to the passive beauty of an infant's ...
Side 30
... face , watch a person of sensibility , as he gazes upon a painting by Claude or Raphael . In contemplating a fine picture , we drink in its spirit through our eyes . If a lovely woman would increase her charms , let her gaze long and ...
... face , watch a person of sensibility , as he gazes upon a painting by Claude or Raphael . In contemplating a fine picture , we drink in its spirit through our eyes . If a lovely woman would increase her charms , let her gaze long and ...
Side 31
... face that ever gleamed upon the earth . But the child's merry laughter was scarcely more delightful than the bland and beautiful smile that kindled on the merchant's care - worn cheek . His aspect underwent such an instantaneous and ...
... face that ever gleamed upon the earth . But the child's merry laughter was scarcely more delightful than the bland and beautiful smile that kindled on the merchant's care - worn cheek . His aspect underwent such an instantaneous and ...
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
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
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Side 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.
Side 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...
Side 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!
Side 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.
Side 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...
Side 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.
Side 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.
Side 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.
Side 147 - Neither a borrower nor a lender be ; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
Side 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...