Elements of Literary Criticism

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Harper & Brothers, 1898 - 288 страници
 

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Страница 233 - He scarce had ceased when the superior Fiend Was moving toward the shore, his ponderous shield, Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, Behind him cast. The broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening, from the top of Fesole, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, 290 Rivers or mountains in her spotty globe.
Страница 268 - Live! fear no heavier chastisement from me, Thou noteless blot on a remembered name ! But be thyself, and know thyself to be ! And ever at thy season be thou free To spill the venom when thy fangs o'erflow : Remorse and Self-contempt shall cling to thee ; Hot Shame shall burn upon thy secret brow, And like a beaten hound tremble thou shalt — as now.
Страница 157 - JUST for a handful of silver he left us, Just for a riband to stick in his coat — Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us, Lost all the others she lets us devote ; They, with the gold to give, doled him out silver, So much was theirs who so little allowed : How all our copper had gone for his service ! Rags — were they purple, his heart had...
Страница 262 - Enow of such as for their bellies' sake, Creep and intrude, and climb into the fold? Of other care they little reckoning make, Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast, And shove away the worthy bidden guest; Blind mouths!
Страница 262 - That to the faithful herdman's art belongs! What recks it them? What need they? They are sped; And when they list, their lean and flashy songs Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw. The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed...
Страница 232 - SWIFTLY walk over the western wave, Spirit of Night ! Out of the misty eastern cave, Where all the long and lone daylight, Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear, Which make thee terrible and dear, — Swift be thy flight...
Страница 267 - Now thou art dead, as if it were a part Of thee, my Adonais ! I would give All that I am to be as thou now art ! But I am chained to Time, and cannot thence depart...
Страница 172 - Could all this be forgotten ? Yes, a schism Nurtured by foppery and barbarism Made great Apollo blush for this his land.
Страница 109 - Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod...
Страница 157 - THIS is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic, Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.

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