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 13
... Sweet to Think Hereafter ...... 454 A Christian Gentleman ...... 497 ' Tis the Last Rose of Summer . 455 Despise not Small Things .. 497 I saw thy Form 455 Coming of Age ... 498 Those Evening Bells ........ 455 Mirth 498 Come , ye ...
... Sweet to Think Hereafter ...... 454 A Christian Gentleman ...... 497 ' Tis the Last Rose of Summer . 455 Despise not Small Things .. 497 I saw thy Form 455 Coming of Age ... 498 Those Evening Bells ........ 455 Mirth 498 Come , ye ...
Side 27
... sweet interchange of hill and dale , shade and sunshine , grove , lawn , and water , which an extensive landscape offers to the view ; the scenery of the ocean , so lovely , so majestic , and so tremendous , and the many pleasing ...
... sweet interchange of hill and dale , shade and sunshine , grove , lawn , and water , which an extensive landscape offers to the view ; the scenery of the ocean , so lovely , so majestic , and so tremendous , and the many pleasing ...
Side 32
... sweet , he wish'd not to control . MORNING.2 But who the melodies of morn can tell ? The wild - brook babbling down the mountain side ; The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell ; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone ...
... sweet , he wish'd not to control . MORNING.2 But who the melodies of morn can tell ? The wild - brook babbling down the mountain side ; The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell ; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone ...
Side 41
... sweet and plaintive , and the words , lite- rally translated , were these : - " The winds roared and the rains fell . The poor white man , faint and weary , came and sat under our tree . He has no mother to bring him milk ; no wife to ...
... sweet and plaintive , and the words , lite- rally translated , were these : - " The winds roared and the rains fell . The poor white man , faint and weary , came and sat under our tree . He has no mother to bring him milk ; no wife to ...
Side 42
... sweet draught , and , if hungry , ate the coarse morsel , with a double relish . " 2 Read some beautiful verses on this touch- ing incident by the Rev. Robert Murray Me Cheyne , in his Memoir and Remains , p . 390 . 3 He had been ...
... sweet draught , and , if hungry , ate the coarse morsel , with a double relish . " 2 Read some beautiful verses on this touch- ing incident by the Rev. Robert Murray Me Cheyne , in his Memoir and Remains , p . 390 . 3 He had been ...
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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.