Chambers's Cyclopædia of English Literature: A History, Critical and Biographical, of British Authors, with Specimens of Their Writings, Volumen2Robert Chambers, Robert Carruthers W. & R. Chambers, 1876 |
Dentro del libro
Resultados 1-5 de 79
Página 5
... never finished . A deepening his recovery , Cowper took to gardening , rearing gloom settled on his mind , with occasionally hares , drawing landscapes , and composing poetry . bright intervals . A visit to his friend Hayley , at The ...
... never finished . A deepening his recovery , Cowper took to gardening , rearing gloom settled on his mind , with occasionally hares , drawing landscapes , and composing poetry . bright intervals . A visit to his friend Hayley , at The ...
Página 7
... never relaxed , however trivial be the theme . The variety of The Task in style and manner , no less than in subject , is one of its greatest charms . The mock - heroic opening is a fine specimen of his humour , and from this he slides ...
... never relaxed , however trivial be the theme . The variety of The Task in style and manner , no less than in subject , is one of its greatest charms . The mock - heroic opening is a fine specimen of his humour , and from this he slides ...
Página 9
... never beat nor billows roar ; ' * And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide Of life , long since has anchored at ... never knew ; And in that charter reads , with sparkling eyes , Her title to a treasure in the skies . O happy peasant ...
... never beat nor billows roar ; ' * And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide Of life , long since has anchored at ... never knew ; And in that charter reads , with sparkling eyes , Her title to a treasure in the skies . O happy peasant ...
Página 21
... never loved toads , but I never molested them ; for my English classic from the unjust aspersions of his mother had early bid me remember that every living countrymen . His satirical poetry is pungent , and thing had the same Maker as ...
... never loved toads , but I never molested them ; for my English classic from the unjust aspersions of his mother had early bid me remember that every living countrymen . His satirical poetry is pungent , and thing had the same Maker as ...
Página 33
... never complain . Remember the arrows he shot from his bow , Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid low . Why so slow ? Do you wait till I shrink from the pain ? No ; the son of Alknomook shall never complain . Remember the wood where ...
... never complain . Remember the arrows he shot from his bow , Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid low . Why so slow ? Do you wait till I shrink from the pain ? No ; the son of Alknomook shall never complain . Remember the wood where ...
Contenido
1 | |
14 | |
22 | |
32 | |
41 | |
46 | |
52 | |
100 | |
114 | |
124 | |
135 | |
211 | |
238 | |
294 | |
320 | |
350 | |
360 | |
372 | |
637 | |
688 | |
738 | |
749 | |
761 | |
787 | |
801 | |
808 | |
811 | |
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Chambers's Cyclopædia of English Literature: A History, Critical ..., Volumen1 Robert Chambers,Robert Carruthers Sin vista previa disponible - 2018 |
Términos y frases comunes
admiration afterwards ancient appeared beauty born breath bright Burns Byron caliph character Charles Lamb charm clouds dark dear death deep delight died earth Edinburgh Edinburgh Review edition England English eyes fair fancy father fear feeling flowers frae genius grace grave green hand happy Harriet Lee hath heard heart heaven hill honour hope hour Italy John labour lady Lady Morgan lassie light literary live look Lord Lord Byron MATTHEW GREGORY LEWIS mind moral morning mountain native nature never night novel o'er passion poem poet poetical poetry published round says scene Scotland Scott Scottish seemed shew Sir Walter Scott sleep smile song soon soul Southey spirit style sweet tale taste tears thee thou thought tion Twas Vathek verse voice volumes wandering Whig wild William wind writing wrote young youth
Pasajes populares
Página 141 - What though the spicy breezes Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle, Though every prospect pleases, And only man is vile : In vain with lavish kindness The gifts of God are strown, The heathen, in his blindness, Bows down to wood and stone.
Página 117 - BREATHES there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand? If such there breathe, go, mark him well; For him no minstrel raptures swell ; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim, — Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly...
Página 64 - A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food; For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
Página 65 - Is lightened : — that serene and blessed mood, In which the affections gently lead us on, — Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul : While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
Página 139 - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel ; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease ; For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.
Página 142 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
Página 134 - Yet if we could scorn Hate, and pride, and fear; If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground...
Página 142 - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him ! But half of our heavy task was done When the clock struck the hour for retiring, And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Página 77 - Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy, Unceasing thunder and eternal foam? And who commanded (and the silence came), Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest? Ye ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain— Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge! Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows?...
Página 110 - Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave ! Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry. Few, few shall part where many meet ! The snow shall be their winding-sheet ; And every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.