The Miscellaneous Prose Works of Sir Walter Scott: Biographical memoirs of eminent novelistsBaudry's European Library, 1838 |
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Page 76
... heart and national manners . It was then that Molière arose , to whom we can scarcely hesitate to assign the first place amongst the comic writers of any age or nation . Jean - Baptiste Poquelin was christened at Paris , 15th January ...
... heart and national manners . It was then that Molière arose , to whom we can scarcely hesitate to assign the first place amongst the comic writers of any age or nation . Jean - Baptiste Poquelin was christened at Paris , 15th January ...
Page 85
... heart . " We sub- scribe to the opinion , yet must add that it was also a high and exquisite touch of flattery , although very properly introduced in the only drama which Molière inscribed to Louis XIV . " L'Ecole des Femmes " was ...
... heart . " We sub- scribe to the opinion , yet must add that it was also a high and exquisite touch of flattery , although very properly introduced in the only drama which Molière inscribed to Louis XIV . " L'Ecole des Femmes " was ...
Page 125
... heart , presents him with the Romaunt of the Cynghte , " a poem , written by JOHN DE BERGHAM , ' one of his own ancestors , about four hundred and fifty years before ; and the more effectually to exclude suspicion , he accompanies it ...
... heart , presents him with the Romaunt of the Cynghte , " a poem , written by JOHN DE BERGHAM , ' one of his own ancestors , about four hundred and fifty years before ; and the more effectually to exclude suspicion , he accompanies it ...
Page 134
... heart melting modulation of periods in my power , to arge her out to Herveiston , but all in vain . My rhetoric seems quite to have lost its effect on the lovely half of mankind . I have seen the day - but that is a tale of other years ...
... heart melting modulation of periods in my power , to arge her out to Herveiston , but all in vain . My rhetoric seems quite to have lost its effect on the lovely half of mankind . I have seen the day - but that is a tale of other years ...
Page 138
... heart , but melted into unthought of sympathy all who wit- nessed them . In such a mood they were often called forth by the slightest and most trifling occurrences ; an ordinary engraving , the wild turn of a simple Scottish air , a ...
... heart , but melted into unthought of sympathy all who wit- nessed them . In such a mood they were often called forth by the slightest and most trifling occurrences ; an ordinary engraving , the wild turn of a simple Scottish air , a ...
Common terms and phrases
affected Amadis Amadis de Gaul ancient appears ballads bard beautiful betwixt Bunyan Caleb Williams called castle character Chatterton Chaucer chivalry circumstances comedy composition Courcy criticism daughter death Ellis English expression eyes fancy father feeling Fleetwood French Galaor genius Gertrude of Wyoming Godwin hand heart hero honour Hôtel de Rambouillet human humour imagination imitation interest John Bunyan John of Gaunt Kehama King knight labours Ladurlad lady language length Lisuarte Lord Lord Byron manner merit metrical romances mind minstrels Molière Molière's moral narrative nature never novel original passages passion perhaps person piece Pilgrim Pilgrim's Progress pleasure poem poet poetical poetry possessed present prose racter reader resemblance ridicule Rowley Samothes satire scene seems sentiments singular song Southey Spenser spirit stanzas story style supposed tale talents taste thee thou thought tion Tizona verse young Zaira
Popular passages
Page 160 - I STOOD in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, A palace and a prison on each hand ; I saw from out the wave her structures rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand : A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles, Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles...
Page 449 - O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword; The expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion and the mould of form, The observed of all observers, quite, quite down!
Page 234 - Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand : Why dost thou lash that whore ? strip thine own back ; Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind, For which thou whipp'st her.
Page 120 - Had we never loved sae kindly, Had we never loved sae blindly, Never met, or never parted, We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
Page 155 - It might be months, or years, or days, I kept no count — I took no note, I had no hope my eyes to raise, And clear them of their dreary mote ; At last men came to set me free...
Page 217 - Or, would'st thou lose thyself, and catch no harm ? And find thyself again without a charm ? Would'st read thyself, and read thou know'st not what, And yet know whether thou art blest or not, By reading the same lines ? O, then, come hither ; And lay my book, thy head and heart together.
Page 449 - ... crash And merciless ravage: and the shady nook Of hazels, and the green and mossy bower, Deformed and sullied, patiently gave up Their quiet being: and unless I now Confound my present feelings with the past...
Page 276 - It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: an image was before mine eyes, there was silence, and I heard a voice, saying, ""Shall mortal man be more just than God?
Page 162 - And even since, and now, fair Italy ! Thou art the garden of the world, the home Of all Art yields, and Nature (') can decree ; Even in thy desert, what is like to thee ? Thy very weeds are beautiful, thy waste ; More rich than other climes' fertility ; Thy wreck a glory, and thy ruin graced With an immaculate charm which cannot be defaced.
Page 164 - Were with his heart, and that was far away ; He reck'd not of the life he lost nor prize, But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother — he, their sire, Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday — All this rush'd with his blood — Shall he expire And unavenged? Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire!