Recollections of a Literary LifeHarper, 1855 - 558 ページ |
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... novels and operas of ours . KYNG ESTMERE . Hearken to me , gentlemen , Come , and you shall heare ; I'll tell you of two of the boldest brethren , That ever born y - were . The tone of them was Adler yonge , The tother A LITERARY LIFE .
... novels and operas of ours . KYNG ESTMERE . Hearken to me , gentlemen , Come , and you shall heare ; I'll tell you of two of the boldest brethren , That ever born y - were . The tone of them was Adler yonge , The tother A LITERARY LIFE .
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... tell to you , That will you sore annoye . " You had not ridden scant a myle , A myle out of the towne , But in did come the Kyng of Spayne , With kempés many a one . " But in did come the Kyng of Spayne , With many a bold baròne Tone ...
... tell to you , That will you sore annoye . " You had not ridden scant a myle , A myle out of the towne , But in did come the Kyng of Spayne , With kempés many a one . " But in did come the Kyng of Spayne , With many a bold baròne Tone ...
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... tell the Court it glows And shines like rotten wood ; Go tell the Church it shows Men's good , and doth no good : If Church and Court reply , Then give them both the lie . Tell potentates they live Acting by others ' actions , Not loved ...
... tell the Court it glows And shines like rotten wood ; Go tell the Church it shows Men's good , and doth no good : If Church and Court reply , Then give them both the lie . Tell potentates they live Acting by others ' actions , Not loved ...
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... Tell zeal it lacks devotion ; Tell love it is but lust ; Tell time it is but motion ; Tell flesh it is but dust : And wish them not reply , For thou must give the lie . Tell age it daily wasteth ; Tell honor how it alters . Tell beauty ...
... Tell zeal it lacks devotion ; Tell love it is but lust ; Tell time it is but motion ; Tell flesh it is but dust : And wish them not reply , For thou must give the lie . Tell age it daily wasteth ; Tell honor how it alters . Tell beauty ...
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Mary Russell Mitford. Tell faith it's fled the city ; Tell how the country erreth ; Tell , manhood shakes off pity ; Tell , virtue least preferreth : And if they do reply , Spare not to give the lie . So when thou hast , as I Commanded ...
Mary Russell Mitford. Tell faith it's fled the city ; Tell how the country erreth ; Tell , manhood shakes off pity ; Tell , virtue least preferreth : And if they do reply , Spare not to give the lie . So when thou hast , as I Commanded ...
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admirable ballads beauty Ben Jonson bird Bonny Dundee Bradshaigh bright brother called charming dear death delight doth EACUS English EURIPIDES eyes fair father fear feeling flowers Gelert gentlemen Gerald Griffin Goodere grace hand happy hath hear heard heart Hepzibah honor horse Joanna Baillie John Banim kind King Klopstock Kyng lady laughed letters light lived look Lord Mahony maid mignonette Molière morning murder never night noble o'er once Pan is dead passed person pleasure poems poet poetry poor praise round SACK OF BALTIMORE scene seemed sing smile Soggarth aroon song spirit story sweet tears tell thee There's thing Thomas Holcroft thou thought took trees truth Twas Ufton Court verse walk wild Winthrop Mackworth Praed wirra-sthru wonder words write wyfe XANTHIAS young youth
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544 ページ - I know they are as lively, and as vigorously productive, as those fabulous dragon's teeth ; and being sown up and down, may chance to spring up armed men. And yet, on the other hand, unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a man as kill a good book. Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image ; but he who destroys a good book, kills reason itself, kills the image of God, as it were in the eye.
543 ページ - STUDIES serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their chief use for delight is in privateness and retiring ; for ornament, is in discourse ; and for ability, is in the judgment and disposition of business. For expert men can execute, and perhaps judge of particulars, one by one ; but the general counsels, and the plots, and marshalling of affairs come best from those that are learned.
201 ページ - Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie. My music shows ye have your closes. And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like seasoned timber, never gives ; But though the whole world turn to coal, Then chiefly lives.
318 ページ - Away ! away ! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee ! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-moon is on her throne, Clustered around by all her starry fays ; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
314 ページ - Higher still and higher, From the earth thou springest, Like a cloud of fire ; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. In the golden lightning Of the sunken sun, O'er which clouds are brightening, Thou dost float and run ; Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.
318 ページ - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild...
242 ページ - Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
180 ページ - I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he ; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; 'Good speed!' cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew ;
392 ページ - 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!
429 ページ - ALL thoughts, all passions, all delights, •** Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruin'd tower.