English Literature of Nineteenth Century: On the Plan of the Author's "Compendium of English Literature" and Supplementary to It. Designed for Colleges and Advanced ClassesBancroft, 1869 - 798 sider |
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Side 45
... breathe MY MOTHER . my last . And canst thou , mother , for a moment think That we , thy children , when old age shall shed Its blanching honors on thy weary head , 1 " I know but one way of fortifying my sonl against all gloomy ...
... breathe MY MOTHER . my last . And canst thou , mother , for a moment think That we , thy children , when old age shall shed Its blanching honors on thy weary head , 1 " I know but one way of fortifying my sonl against all gloomy ...
Side 57
... breath , Still pour the fervent prayer : And ye , whose smile must greet my eye No more , nor voice my ear , Who breathe for me the tender sigh , And shed the pitying tear , Whose kindness ( though far , far removed ) My grateful ...
... breath , Still pour the fervent prayer : And ye , whose smile must greet my eye No more , nor voice my ear , Who breathe for me the tender sigh , And shed the pitying tear , Whose kindness ( though far , far removed ) My grateful ...
Side 64
... breathing his last in his native city , and Mrs. Grahame set out with him , on the 11th of September , for Glasgow . He was barely able to reach the place , and died there on the 14th of September , 1811 , in the forty- seventh year of ...
... breathing his last in his native city , and Mrs. Grahame set out with him , on the 11th of September , for Glasgow . He was barely able to reach the place , and died there on the 14th of September , 1811 , in the forty- seventh year of ...
Side 65
... breathe The morning air pure from the city's smoke ; While wandering slowly up the river - side , He meditates on ... breathing in the silence of the woods , And blessing Him who gave the Sabbath - day ! Yes ! my heart flutters with a ...
... breathe The morning air pure from the city's smoke ; While wandering slowly up the river - side , He meditates on ... breathing in the silence of the woods , And blessing Him who gave the Sabbath - day ! Yes ! my heart flutters with a ...
Side 74
... breathe in England : if their lungs Receive our air , that moment they are free ; They touch our country , and their shackles fall . " After this , Mr. Sharp devoted his energies to the abolition of slavery and of the slave - trade all ...
... breathe in England : if their lungs Receive our air , that moment they are free ; They touch our country , and their shackles fall . " After this , Mr. Sharp devoted his energies to the abolition of slavery and of the slave - trade all ...
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admiration appeared beautiful Blackwood's Magazine bless born breath called character Charles Lamb child Christian church Coleridge critic dark death delight divine earth Edinburgh Review edition Encyclopædia Britannica England English Essays eyes fame fancy father feel flowers genius glory grace grave hand happy hath heart heaven Henry Kirke White History honor hope hour human labor lady light literary literature lived London look Lord Milton mind moral Moscow nature never night noble North British Review o'er passion pleasure poem poet poetical poetry poor praise prayer published racter rich Robert Pollok scene Shakspeare Sir Walter Scott smile song sorrow soul spirit stranger's heart style sublime sweet taste tears thee thine thing thou thought tion truth University of Edinburgh verse voice volumes wonder words writings young youth
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Side 99 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him.
Side 143 - Brightest and best of the sons of the morning, Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid; Star of the East, the horizon adorning, Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid.
Side 123 - Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown. For the Angel of Death...
Side 430 - THE world is too much with us: late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not.
Side 541 - Nay, not so," Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, But cheerly still ; and said, " I pray thee, then, Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.
Side 127 - SHE walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies ; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes : Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
Side 124 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather'd then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell; But hush!
Side 82 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket...
Side 220 - Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge! Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? GOD! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, GOD!
Side 430 - MILTON ! thou should'st be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.