Cambridge Essays, Volume 1John W. Parker and son, 1855 |
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Page 1
... hand the produce of that spirit by which the whole literature of his age was governed , or , on the other , the true and genuine manifestation of the man's own soul ? The vices and foibles he so greatly dares to ridicule , do they ...
... hand the produce of that spirit by which the whole literature of his age was governed , or , on the other , the true and genuine manifestation of the man's own soul ? The vices and foibles he so greatly dares to ridicule , do they ...
Page 14
... hand at a fine , learned preface , having plenty of books which would have supplied me with all sorts of learned things about Tragedy and Comedy , their etymology , definition , origin , and the rest of it . Aye ! and I should have laid ...
... hand at a fine , learned preface , having plenty of books which would have supplied me with all sorts of learned things about Tragedy and Comedy , their etymology , definition , origin , and the rest of it . Aye ! and I should have laid ...
Page 27
... hand , proud of your new - fledged independence ; have a care , I say , for look at your team : one indeed is in goodish condition , stands well on its legs , has good action , holds up its neck , its nostrils show breeding , its hide ...
... hand , proud of your new - fledged independence ; have a care , I say , for look at your team : one indeed is in goodish condition , stands well on its legs , has good action , holds up its neck , its nostrils show breeding , its hide ...
Page 28
... hand , the pious caution with which the Spaniard shrank from unmasking the libertine , and showing the atheist in the broad face of heaven , and on the brink of hell ; on the other hand , the boldness with which Molière tore aside every ...
... hand , the pious caution with which the Spaniard shrank from unmasking the libertine , and showing the atheist in the broad face of heaven , and on the brink of hell ; on the other hand , the boldness with which Molière tore aside every ...
Page 32
... hands of those whom he has all along taken to be his own familiar friends , these repeated occurrences end , as we all know , by making him hate everybody ; and he fancies that there is no whole part in any human being . The cor ...
... hands of those whom he has all along taken to be his own familiar friends , these repeated occurrences end , as we all know , by making him hate everybody ; and he fancies that there is no whole part in any human being . The cor ...
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Popular passages
Page 43 - I was confirmed in this opinion, that he who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well hereafter in laudable things, ought himself to be a true poem...
Page 280 - but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone She cries " a thousand types are gone : I care for nothing, all shall go. " Thou makest thine appeal to me : I bring to life, I bring to death : The spirit does but mean the breath : I know no more.
Page 246 - Dry clash'd his harness in the icy caves And barren chasms, and all to left and right The bare black cliff clang'd round him, as he based His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels — And on a sudden, lo! the level lake, And the long glories of the winter moon.
Page 280 - Nature, red in tooth and claw With ravine, shriek'd against his creed — Who loved, who suffer'd countless ills, Who battled for the True, the Just, Be blown about the desert dust, Or seal'd within the iron hills ? No more ? A monster then, a dream, A discord. Dragons of the prime, That tare each other in their slime, Were mellow music match'd with him. O life as futile, then, as frail ! 0 for thy voice to soothe and bless ! What hope of answer, or redress ? Behind the veil, behind the veil.
Page 81 - And one, the reapers at their sultry toil. In front they bound the sheaves. Behind Were realms of upland, prodigal in oil, And hoary to the wind. And one, a foreground black with stones and slags, Beyond a line of heights, and higher All barr'd with long white cloud the scornful crags, And highest, snow and fire. And one, an English home— gray twilight pour'd On dewy pastures, dewy trees, Softer than sleep — all things in order stored, A haunt of ancient Peace.
Page 261 - Many a night from yonder ivied casement, ere I went to rest, Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly to the West. Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising thro' the mellow shade, Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid.
Page 261 - Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.
Page 245 - Thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt; Either from lust of gold, or like a girl Valuing the giddy pleasure of the eyes. Yet, for a man may fail in duty twice, And the third time may prosper, get thee hence: But, if thou spare to fling Excalibur, I will arise and slay thee with my hands.
Page 262 - I was left a trampled orphan, and a selfish uncle's ward. Or to burst all links of habit — there to wander far away, On from island unto island at the gateways of the day.
Page 278 - Unfettered by the sense of crime, To whom a conscience never wakes; Nor, what may count itself as blest, The heart that never plighted troth But stagnates in the weeds of sloth; Nor any want-begotten rest. I hold it true, whate'er...