Cyclopędia of English Literature: A History, Critical and Biographical, of British and American Authors, with Specimens of Their Writings, Volume 5 |
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... present age , and the progress of mechan . ical knowledge , would be fatal to
the higher efforts of imagination , and diminish the territories of the poet . This
seems a groundless fear . It did not damp the ardour of Scott or Byron , or the
fancy of ...
... present age , and the progress of mechan . ical knowledge , would be fatal to
the higher efforts of imagination , and diminish the territories of the poet . This
seems a groundless fear . It did not damp the ardour of Scott or Byron , or the
fancy of ...
Page 10
What he wrote for amusement or relief in the midst of ' supreme distress , '
surpasses the elaborate efforts of others made under the most favourable
circumstances ; and in the very winter of his days , his fancy was as fresh and
blooming as in ...
What he wrote for amusement or relief in the midst of ' supreme distress , '
surpasses the elaborate efforts of others made under the most favourable
circumstances ; and in the very winter of his days , his fancy was as fresh and
blooming as in ...
Page 11
There are passages , however , in these evangelical works of Cowper of masterly
execution and lively fancy . His character of Chatham has rarely been surpassed
even by Pope or Dryden : A . Patriots , alas ! the few that have been found ...
There are passages , however , in these evangelical works of Cowper of masterly
execution and lively fancy . His character of Chatham has rarely been surpassed
even by Pope or Dryden : A . Patriots , alas ! the few that have been found ...
Page 16
I will obey , not willingly alone , But gladly , as the precept were her own : And
while that face renews my filial grief , Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief ;
Shall steep me in Elysian reverie , A momentary dream , that thou art she . My
mother ...
I will obey , not willingly alone , But gladly , as the precept were her own : And
while that face renews my filial grief , Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief ;
Shall steep me in Elysian reverie , A momentary dream , that thou art she . My
mother ...
Page 18
... the joys that once were mine , Without the sin of violating thine ; And , while the
wings of fancy still are free , And I can view this mimic show of thee , Time has but
half succeeded in his theft Thyself removed , thy power to sooth me left .
... the joys that once were mine , Without the sin of violating thine ; And , while the
wings of fancy still are free , And I can view this mimic show of thee , Time has but
half succeeded in his theft Thyself removed , thy power to sooth me left .
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Cyclopędia of English Literature: A History, Critical and ..., Volume 4 Robert Chambers No preview available - 1879 |
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Popular passages
Page 290 - Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Clustered around by all her starry Fays...
Page 260 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, — roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin, — his control Stops with the shore; — upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed...
Page 154 - Nor dim nor red, like God's own head, The glorious Sun uprist: Then all averred, I had killed the bird That brought the fog and mist.
Page 154 - He struck with his o'ertaking wings And chased us south along. With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe, And forward bends his head, The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, And southward aye we fled. And now there came both mist and snow, And it grew wondrous cold: And ice, mast-high, came floating by, As green as emerald.
Page 157 - They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose, Nor spake, nor moved their eyes ; It had been strange, even in a dream, To have seen those dead men rise. The helmsman steered, the ship moved on; Yet never a breeze...
Page 322 - ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold: Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, "What writest thou?" The vision raised its head, And, with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord.
Page 277 - What thou art we know not: What is most like thee? From rainbow clouds there flow not drops so bright to see, As from thy presence showers a rain of melody. Like a poet hidden in the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not.
Page 154 - And I had done a hellish thing. And it would work 'em woe: For all averred. I had killed the bird That made the breeze to blow.
Page 14 - With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smile I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, "Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!
Page 136 - Once again I see These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines Of sportive wood run wild : these pastoral farms. Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke Sent up, in silence, from among the trees ! With some uncertain notice, as might seem Of vagrant Dwellers in the houseless woods, Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fire The Hermit sits alone.