Essays in Biography and Criticism, Bind 1Gould and Lincoln, 1860 |
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Side 32
... poetic might he can fling a subject into the furnace of his genius , shapeless , rugged , and drossy as it may be , and show us it again flowing out in the purity and brightness of molten gold ; how at eleven he was a brilliant Latin ...
... poetic might he can fling a subject into the furnace of his genius , shapeless , rugged , and drossy as it may be , and show us it again flowing out in the purity and brightness of molten gold ; how at eleven he was a brilliant Latin ...
Side 33
... poet that ever lived ; the softening radiance of poetic light which played over the massive intellect of Luther gave it a beauty which will never fade ; and we have no doubt that imaginative fire burned in the unwavering , far - search ...
... poet that ever lived ; the softening radiance of poetic light which played over the massive intellect of Luther gave it a beauty which will never fade ; and we have no doubt that imaginative fire burned in the unwavering , far - search ...
Side 35
... poets , the furthest removed from the practical world : he is the listener to the voice of woods , the watcher of the ... poetic sym- pathy , into the feelings which his own creative power im- parts , and wish that little flower ...
... poets , the furthest removed from the practical world : he is the listener to the voice of woods , the watcher of the ... poetic sym- pathy , into the feelings which his own creative power im- parts , and wish that little flower ...
Side 36
... the question here presses itself upon us- What has De Quincey himself done , and what field of truth has he opened up , what great poetic structure has he built ? The answer is one which can be easily 36 THOMAS DE QUINCEY.
... the question here presses itself upon us- What has De Quincey himself done , and what field of truth has he opened up , what great poetic structure has he built ? The answer is one which can be easily 36 THOMAS DE QUINCEY.
Side 37
... poetic heaven which had not been entered since the days of Milton . But , as if some maddening or bewildering enchantment had fallen on him , it was seen that the aërial poise of his wings became unsteady , he seemed to stagger in the ...
... poetic heaven which had not been entered since the days of Milton . But , as if some maddening or bewildering enchantment had fallen on him , it was seen that the aërial poise of his wings became unsteady , he seemed to stagger in the ...
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artists Aurora Leigh beauty breast Browning Browning's Byron calm Carlyle cast character Charlotte Bronte Christian cloth clouds color criticism Currer Bell death deep delight delineation Drama of Exile dream earth Edgar Poe emotion English English language exhibited expression exquisite face fact feeling flowers gaze genius glance gleam glory Goethe hand heart heaven highest Hugh Miller human idea ideal ideal Art imagination intellectual Keats language Leigh light Locksley Hall look loveliness Lucifer melody mighty mind moral mountain nature nature's never noble novel novelist painter painting Palace of Art passage passion pathos perfect perhaps picture pleasure poem poet poetess poetic poetry pre-Raphaelitism Quincey Quincey's reader remarkable Ruskin seems sense Shakspeare smile sorrow style sublime sympathy tears tender Tennyson thee things Thom thou thought tion touch true truth Turner voice volume whole word-painting words writings Wuthering Heights
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Side 75 - Canst thou make him afraid as a grasshopper? The glory of his nostrils is terrible. He paweth in the valley and rejoiceth in his strength: He goeth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted; Neither turneth he back from the sword. The quiver rattleth against him, the glittering spear and the shield.
Side 84 - IN THE greenest of our valleys, By good angels tenanted, Once a fair and stately palace — Radiant palace — reared its head. In the monarch Thought's dominion — It stood there! Never seraph spread a pinion Over fabric half so fair.
Side 122 - Her eyes are homes of silent prayer, Nor other thought her mind admits But, he was dead, and there he sits, And he that brought him back is there. Then one deep love doth supersede All other, when her ardent gaze Roves from the living brother's face, And rests upon the Life indeed. All subtle thought, all curious fears, Borne down by gladness so complete, She bows, she bathes the Saviour's feet With costly spikenard and with tears.
Side 126 - Within himself, from more to more; Or, crown'd with attributes of woe Like glories, move his course, and show That life is not as idle ore, But iron dug from central gloom, And heated hot with burning fears, And dipt in baths of hissing tears, And batter'd with the shocks of doom To shape and use. Arise and fly The reeling Faun, the sensual feast; Move upward, working out the beast, And let the ape and tiger die.
Side 67 - 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.
Side 143 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Side 123 - Oh yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood ; That nothing walks with aimless feet ; That not one life shall be destroyed, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
Side 124 - And he, shall he, Man, her last work, who seem'd so fair, Such splendid purpose in his eyes, Who roll'd the psalm to wintry skies, Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer, Who trusted God was love indeed And love Creation's final law Tho...
Side 112 - Eye, to which all order festers, all things here are out of joint, Science moves, but slowly slowly, creeping on from point to point : Slowly comes a hungry people, as a lion, creeping nigher, Glares at one that nods and winks behind a slowly-dying fire. Yet I doubt not thro' the ages one increasing purpose runs, And the thoughts of men are widen'd with the process of the suns.
Side 78 - ST. AGNES' EVE— Ah, bitter chill it was ! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold ; The hare limped trembling through the frozen grass, And silent was the flock in woolly fold : Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told His rosary, and while his frosted breath, Like pious incense from a censer old, Seemed taking flight for heaven, without a death, Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while...