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Adam Smith Addison admiration Aristides beauty Biographia Literaria Boswell's Burney called Carlyle Carlyle's century Charles Lamb child Clarissa Coleridge Coleridge's Cowley critic David Hume delight describes Dryden dulness Elkanah Settle English Essays fame famous Fanny Burney favourite feeling Garrick genius George Goldsmith happy heart Herodotus History Homer hope Horace Walpole Hume imagination Johnson judgment kings language learned LECTURE less Letters lines literary literature live look Lord Macaulay Macaulay merits Milton mind nature neglect never nevertheless noble once Oxford passage passed perhaps Pindar play pleasure poem poet poetry Pope popular praise published readers Richardson Ruskin says scorn Scotch Scotland Shakespeare silent poets Sir George Trevelyan story Strahan style taste teach things thought told Tom Jones Tristram Shandy turn vast word-painters words Wordsworth write written wrote young youth
Страница 20 - The floating clouds their state shall lend To her; for her the willow bend; Nor shall she fail to see Even in the motions of the storm Grace that shall mould the maiden's form By silent sympathy. 'The stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
Страница 19 - THREE years she grew in sun and shower ; Then Nature said : " A lovelier flower On earth was never sown ; This child I to myself will take ; She shall be mine, and I will make A lady of my own. " Myself will to my darling be Both law and impulse ; and with me The girl, in rock and plain, In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, Shall feel an overseeing power, To kindle or restrain.
Страница 130 - We do it wrong, being so majestical, To offer it the show of violence ; For it is, as the air, invulnerable, And our vain blows malicious mockery.
Страница 119 - And when I die, be sure you let me know Great Homer died three thousand years ago. Why did I write ? what sin to me unknown Dipp'd me in ink, my parents', or my own ? As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame. I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came...
Страница 103 - Will no one tell me what she sings? — Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?
Страница 126 - Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings? Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings. Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat ? Loves of his own and raptures swell the note.
Страница 204 - Night primeval and of Chaos old ! Before her, fancy's gilded clouds decay, And all its varying rainbows die away. Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires, The meteor drops, and in a flash expires. As one by one, at dread Medea's strain, The sick'ning stars fade off th' ethereal plain ; As Argus
Страница 140 - ... in the heavens above, or in the earth beneath, or in the waters under the earth.
Страница 133 - Through all the compass of the notes it ran, The diapason closing full in Man. What passion cannot Music raise and quell? When Jubal struck the chorded shell, His listening brethren stood around, And, wondering, on their faces fell To worship that celestial sound. Less than a god they thought there could not dwell Within the hollow of that shell, That spoke so sweetly, and so well.