Chambers's Cyclopædia of English Literature: A History, Critical and Biographical, of British and American Authors, with Specimens of Their Writings, Volúmenes5-6Robert Chambers American Book Exchange, 1880 |
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Página 23
... deep in that of cold pretence . Patriots are grown too shrewd to be sincere , And we too wise to trust them . He that takes Deep in his soft credulity the stamp Designed by loud declaimers on the part Of liberty , themselves the slaves ...
... deep in that of cold pretence . Patriots are grown too shrewd to be sincere , And we too wise to trust them . He that takes Deep in his soft credulity the stamp Designed by loud declaimers on the part Of liberty , themselves the slaves ...
Página 53
... Deep sympathizing with his groaning feet . ' How now ! ' the light - toed whitewashed pilgrim broke , You lazy lubber ! ' ' Confound it ! ' cried the t ' other , ' tis no joke : My feet , once hard as any rock , Are now as soft as ...
... Deep sympathizing with his groaning feet . ' How now ! ' the light - toed whitewashed pilgrim broke , You lazy lubber ! ' ' Confound it ! ' cried the t ' other , ' tis no joke : My feet , once hard as any rock , Are now as soft as ...
Página 55
... deep was majesty in dough , The palace seemed the lodging of a baker ! Whitbread's Brewery visited by their Majesties . Full of the art of brewing beer , The monarch heard of Whitbread's fame ; Quoth he unto the queen : My dear , my ...
... deep was majesty in dough , The palace seemed the lodging of a baker ! Whitbread's Brewery visited by their Majesties . Full of the art of brewing beer , The monarch heard of Whitbread's fame ; Quoth he unto the queen : My dear , my ...
Página 56
... deep research . he did not say , ' What's this ? hae , hae ? What's that ? What's this ? What's that ? So quick the words too , when he deigned to speak , As if each syllable would break its neck . Thus , to the world of great whilst ...
... deep research . he did not say , ' What's this ? hae , hae ? What's that ? What's this ? What's that ? So quick the words too , when he deigned to speak , As if each syllable would break its neck . Thus , to the world of great whilst ...
Página 73
... deep imprest ' Upon my heart those sounds I well recall , ' The blushing maid exclaimed , and on his breast A tear of trembling ecstacy let fall . But , ere the breezes of the morning call Aurora from her purple , humid bed , Psycle in ...
... deep imprest ' Upon my heart those sounds I well recall , ' The blushing maid exclaimed , and on his breast A tear of trembling ecstacy let fall . But , ere the breezes of the morning call Aurora from her purple , humid bed , Psycle in ...
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Términos y frases comunes
admiration afterwards Aiken-drum Allan Cunningham Allan Ramsay appeared bawbee beauty beneath bonny breath bright Burns Byron character Charles Lamb charm clouds Cockpen dark dear death deep delight died dream earth ELIZABETH INCHBALD eyes fair fancy father fear feeling flowers frae genius grave green hame hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven hill honour hope Horace Smith hour John Kilmeny lady lassie light literary live look Lord Lord Byron mind morning mountain native nature never night novel o'er passion poem poet poetical poetry published rose round says scenes Scotland Scott Scottish seemed shew silent Sir Walter Scott sleep smile song soul spirit stream sweet tale taste tears thee thine thing thou thought Twas Vathek verse voice volumes wandering wave wild William Laidlaw WILLIAM MOTHERWELL wind young youth
Pasajes populares
Página 140 - tis her privilege. Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy; for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues. Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is full of blessings.
Página 324 - Nay, not so," Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, But cheerily still, and said, "I pray thee, then, Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.
Página 158 - The many men, so beautiful! And they all dead did lie: And a thousand thousand slimy things Lived on; and so did I.
Página 290 - Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon; Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, And on her silver cross soft amethyst, And on her hair a glory, like a saint: She seemed a splendid angel, newly drest, Save wings, for heaven: Porphyro grew faint: She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
Página 137 - Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side.
Página 247 - O woman ! in our hours of ease, uncertain, coy, and hard to please, and variable as the shade by the light, quivering aspen made ; when pain and anguish wring the brow, a ministering angel thou...
Página 26 - For saddle-tree scarce reached had he, His journey to begin, When, turning round his head, he saw Three customers come in. So down he came; for loss of time, Although it grieved him sore, Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, Would trouble him much more. Twas long before the customers Were suited to their mind, When Betty screaming came down stairs, 'The wine is left behind!' 'Good lack,' quoth he — 'yet bring it me, My leathern belt likewise, In which I bear my trusty sword, When I do exercise.
Página 138 - To them I may have owed another gift, Of aspect more sublime : that blessed mood In which the burthen of the mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world. Is lightened; that serene and blessed mood.
Página 297 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.
Página 291 - My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness, — That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.