English Literature of the Nineteenth Century: on the Plan of the Author's "Compendium of English Literature", and Supplementary to it
E.C. & J. Biddle, 1853 - Всего страниц: 785
Отзывы - Написать отзыв
Не удалось найти ни одного отзыва.
Другие издания - Просмотреть все
admiration affection appeared beauty become better born breath called cause character Christian course dark death deep delight duties early earth England father feel flowers friends gave genius give hand happiness head heart heaven honor hope hour human interest kind knowledge labor learning leaves less light literary lived look Lord manner means mind moral morning nature never night o'er object once pain pass peace pleasure poem poet poetry poor present principles published received respect rest rich smile society soon soul speak spirit spring success sweet taste tears thee thing thou thought tion true truth universal virtue voice volumes whole writings young youth
Стр. 158 - I see before me the Gladiator lie : He leans upon his hand — his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his droop'd head sinks gradually low— And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder-shower; and now The arena swims around him — he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch who won.
Стр. 296 - 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!
Стр. 188 - 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. Cold on his cradle the dew-drops are shining; low lies his head with the beasts of the stall; angels adore him in slumber reclining, Maker and Monarch and Saviour of all.
Стр. 133 - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him ! But half of our heavy task was done When the clock struck the hour for retiring, And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Стр. 162 - Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Стр. 541 - And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine ; A Being breathing thoughtful breath, A traveller between life and death ; The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength and skill ; A perfect Woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort and command ; And yet a spirit still, and bright With something of an angel light.
Стр. 49 - O, how canst thou renounce the boundless store Of charms which Nature to her votary yields ! The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields ; All that the genial ray of morning gilds, » And all that echoes to the song of even, All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of Heaven, O, how canst thou renounce^ and hope to be forgiven ! These charms shall work thy soul's eternal health, And love, and gentleness, and joy,...
Стр. 297 - Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee, Whether the summer clothe the general earth With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch Smokes in the sun-thaw; whether the eave-drops fall. Heard only in the trances of the blast, Or if the secret ministry of frost Shall hang them up in silent icicles, Quietly shining to the quiet Moon, DEJECTION.