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 6
... fire , Where love our hours employs ; No noisy neighbour enters here ; Nor intermeddling stranger near , To spoil our heartfelt joys . If solid happiness we prize , Within our breast this jewel lies ; And they are fools who roam : The ...
... fire , Where love our hours employs ; No noisy neighbour enters here ; Nor intermeddling stranger near , To spoil our heartfelt joys . If solid happiness we prize , Within our breast this jewel lies ; And they are fools who roam : The ...
Página 15
... fire , and strive To make a blaze - that's roasting him alive . Serve him with venison , and he chooses fish ; With sole - that's just the sort he would not wish . He takes what he at first professed to loathe , And in due time feeds ...
... fire , and strive To make a blaze - that's roasting him alive . Serve him with venison , and he chooses fish ; With sole - that's just the sort he would not wish . He takes what he at first professed to loathe , And in due time feeds ...
Página 19
... fire , and close the shutters fast , Let fall the curtains , wheel the sofa round , And while the bubbling and loud - hissing urn Throws up a steamy column , and the cups , That cheer but not inebriate , wait on each , So let us welcome ...
... fire , and close the shutters fast , Let fall the curtains , wheel the sofa round , And while the bubbling and loud - hissing urn Throws up a steamy column , and the cups , That cheer but not inebriate , wait on each , So let us welcome ...
Página 33
... fire . He was , how- ever , subject to inflammation as well as gout , and a sudden attack carried him off in his seventy - first year , on the 18th of April 1802 . Shortly after his death , was published a poem , the Temple of Nature ...
... fire . He was , how- ever , subject to inflammation as well as gout , and a sudden attack carried him off in his seventy - first year , on the 18th of April 1802 . Shortly after his death , was published a poem , the Temple of Nature ...
Página 39
... fire , without experience sage , Young , with more art thau Shelburne gleaned from age , Too proud from pilfered greatness to descend , Too humble not to call Dundas his friend , In solemn dignity and sullen state , This new Octavius ...
... fire , without experience sage , Young , with more art thau Shelburne gleaned from age , Too proud from pilfered greatness to descend , Too humble not to call Dundas his friend , In solemn dignity and sullen state , This new Octavius ...
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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.