Cambridge Essays, Volume 1John W. Parker and son, 1855 |
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Page 3
... dissected and scrutinized . One defect , and a very grave defect it is , this book certainly has . It is written in a spirit of acrimony and self - sufficiency , which leads one to suppose that the author believed himself , B 2.
... dissected and scrutinized . One defect , and a very grave defect it is , this book certainly has . It is written in a spirit of acrimony and self - sufficiency , which leads one to suppose that the author believed himself , B 2.
Page 4
leads one to suppose that the author believed himself , by special licence infallible ; a notion very much the reverse of the truth . We have recently put ourselves in communication with M. Taschereau , the author ( it is superfluous to ...
leads one to suppose that the author believed himself , by special licence infallible ; a notion very much the reverse of the truth . We have recently put ourselves in communication with M. Taschereau , the author ( it is superfluous to ...
Page 8
... leads men to disregard the ordinary dictates of prudence in order to win them a niche in the temple of Fame , which occasionally proves to be the temple of Famine . The writer of these pages , however , contents himself with the humbler ...
... leads men to disregard the ordinary dictates of prudence in order to win them a niche in the temple of Fame , which occasionally proves to be the temple of Famine . The writer of these pages , however , contents himself with the humbler ...
Page 35
... lead him to forget that virtue is not a shirt that it should be starched , that railing declamation against the received usages of the world's intercourse , the current formulas and stock topics by which relief is afforded to stranded ...
... lead him to forget that virtue is not a shirt that it should be starched , that railing declamation against the received usages of the world's intercourse , the current formulas and stock topics by which relief is afforded to stranded ...
Page 52
... lead one to suppose . For , indeed , avarice and jealousy have much in common , both in respect of their all - absorbing nature and of their debasing tendency . Still , Shakspeare has had the art not to allow either of these features to ...
... lead one to suppose . For , indeed , avarice and jealousy have much in common , both in respect of their all - absorbing nature and of their debasing tendency . Still , Shakspeare has had the art not to allow either of these features to ...
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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...