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 10
... Night at Corinth ... 119 Homer and Milton ..... 166 A Calm Night at Lake Geneva ... 119 A Patriot's Duty to his Country .. 167 An Alpine Storm at Lake Geneva ... 120 The Bible . 169 Liberty 120 Modern Greece ... 121 HENRY MACKENZIE ...
... Night at Corinth ... 119 Homer and Milton ..... 166 A Calm Night at Lake Geneva ... 119 A Patriot's Duty to his Country .. 167 An Alpine Storm at Lake Geneva ... 120 The Bible . 169 Liberty 120 Modern Greece ... 121 HENRY MACKENZIE ...
Side 13
... Night at Sea ...... 477 To his Early Beloved .. 434 To the Memory of Grahame . 478 Lines on a Poor Blind Man . 435 The Evening Cloud .... 479 The Bells of Ostend . 435 CAROLINE ANNE SOUTHEY . 479 JOANNA BAILLIE .. 436 Mariner's Hymn ...
... Night at Sea ...... 477 To his Early Beloved .. 434 To the Memory of Grahame . 478 Lines on a Poor Blind Man . 435 The Evening Cloud .... 479 The Bells of Ostend . 435 CAROLINE ANNE SOUTHEY . 479 JOANNA BAILLIE .. 436 Mariner's Hymn ...
Side 19
... night ; Thee the proud Sultan's beauteous train , By eunuchs guarded , weep in vain , Tearing the roses from their locks ; And Guinea's captive kings lament , By Christian lords to labor sent , Whipt like the dull , unfeeling ox ...
... night ; Thee the proud Sultan's beauteous train , By eunuchs guarded , weep in vain , Tearing the roses from their locks ; And Guinea's captive kings lament , By Christian lords to labor sent , Whipt like the dull , unfeeling ox ...
Side 33
... night , and the landscape is lovely no more ; I mourn , but , ye woodlands , I mourn not for you ; i . 124 . This is the verse of the Minstrel which | almost to tears . See GILLIES ' Literary Veteran , Dugald Stewart could never , by ...
... night , and the landscape is lovely no more ; I mourn , but , ye woodlands , I mourn not for you ; i . 124 . This is the verse of the Minstrel which | almost to tears . See GILLIES ' Literary Veteran , Dugald Stewart could never , by ...
Side 34
... night of the grave ? 1 " " Twas thus , by the glare of false science betray'd- That leads to bewilder ; and dazzles , to blind- My thoughts wont to roam , from shade onward to shade , Destruction before me , and sorrow behind . ' Oh ...
... night of the grave ? 1 " " Twas thus , by the glare of false science betray'd- That leads to bewilder ; and dazzles , to blind- My thoughts wont to roam , from shade onward to shade , Destruction before me , and sorrow behind . ' Oh ...
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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.