The Edinburgh Literary Journal: Or, Weekly Register of Criticism and Belles Lettres, Volumen2Ballantyne, 1829 Vol. 2 includes "The poet Shelley--his unpublished work, T̀he wandering Jew'" (p. 43-45, [57]-60) |
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... Spirit of laste To E. G. ib . 389 241 420 • 389 WATTS , ( ALARIC A. ) To a Lady with a Book of Manuscript Poems 13 81 Royal Society Song ib . Sketches from the Portfolio of a Traveller 400 WEIR , ( WILLIAM ) England at the Close of 1829 ...
... Spirit of laste To E. G. ib . 389 241 420 • 389 WATTS , ( ALARIC A. ) To a Lady with a Book of Manuscript Poems 13 81 Royal Society Song ib . Sketches from the Portfolio of a Traveller 400 WEIR , ( WILLIAM ) England at the Close of 1829 ...
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... spirit endued with the accents of speech , Like a rainbow of music adorning the cloud . In that music was transport ! I smiled through my tears : Even now , in dark moments , when exiled from bliss , From the baseless illusions of ...
... spirit endued with the accents of speech , Like a rainbow of music adorning the cloud . In that music was transport ! I smiled through my tears : Even now , in dark moments , when exiled from bliss , From the baseless illusions of ...
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... spirit of self - scrutiny , and to dissi- pate false views , to which custom alone may have recon- ciled us , than any thing else we know . the whole nation . In the continuation of his work , Mr Fugitive Pieces and Reminiscences of ...
... spirit of self - scrutiny , and to dissi- pate false views , to which custom alone may have recon- ciled us , than any thing else we know . the whole nation . In the continuation of his work , Mr Fugitive Pieces and Reminiscences of ...
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... spirits that would meet Their end - as men should die , - Hearts that would hail the darksome grave , Ere yet degraded to a slave . Carthage - farewell ! My dust I lay Not on thy summer strand ; Yet shall my spirit stretch away To thee ...
... spirits that would meet Their end - as men should die , - Hearts that would hail the darksome grave , Ere yet degraded to a slave . Carthage - farewell ! My dust I lay Not on thy summer strand ; Yet shall my spirit stretch away To thee ...
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... spirits to fix upon St Albans as the scene of their nocturnal revels . It will thus be perceived that the author ... spirit - stirring as one or two mysterious and indistinct hints of some undescribed horror . Mr Mudford en- tirely ...
... spirits to fix upon St Albans as the scene of their nocturnal revels . It will thus be perceived that the author ... spirit - stirring as one or two mysterious and indistinct hints of some undescribed horror . Mr Mudford en- tirely ...
Términos y frases comunes
ain true love appear auld beautiful better Boabdil called character Charles Kemble church clan Mackay Cravat cuckoo dark death delightful Edinburgh Review Editor English engraved eyes fair favour feel frae French friends genius ginal give Glasgow Greenock hand happy heard heart heaven honour hope Innerleithen interesting Italy King lady Lady Morgan land language light living London look Lord Lord Byron Madame Vestris manner ment mind Miss nature never night o'er once original painted person pleasure poem poet poetry possess present racter readers remarkable respect round scarcely scene Scotland Scottish seems seen sing Sir Walter Scott smile song soul spirit story style sweet talent taste Theatre thee thing Thomas Hood thou thought tion truth volume whole words write young
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Página 131 - That make the meadows green ; and, pour'd round all, Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste, — Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun. The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.
Página 131 - She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty ; and she glides Into his darker musings with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness ere he is aware. When thoughts Of the last bitter hour come like a blight Over thy spirit, and sad images Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, And breathless darkness, and the narrow house...
Página 131 - Yet a few days, and thee The all-beholding sun shall see no more In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground, Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist Thy image.
Página 131 - Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there ! And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep — the dead reign there alone.
Página 131 - There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower, There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree, There's a smile on the fruit and a smile on the flower, And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea.
Página 131 - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan that moves To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Página 131 - Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again; And, lost each human trace, surrendering up Thine individual being, shalt thou go To mix forever with the elements; To be a brother to the insensible rock, And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain Turns with his share, and treads upon.
Página 131 - Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will chase His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come And make their bed with thee.
Página 16 - At the end of the seventeenth and the beginning of the eighteenth century...
Página 225 - Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, Drinking is the soldier's pleasure: Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure, Sweet is pleasure after pain. Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain; Fought all his battles o'er again, And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain!