Literary Leaves; Or, Prose and Verse Chiefly Written in India, Volume 1W.H. Allen & Company, 1840 - English literature |
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... of such support . Besides , I know how much should be deducted from the praises of a private correspondent , even when that correspondent is a stranger , and has no other aim or interest to serve than the gratification of a.
... of such support . Besides , I know how much should be deducted from the praises of a private correspondent , even when that correspondent is a stranger , and has no other aim or interest to serve than the gratification of a.
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... praise that grows with what it feeds on , and too often destroys that healthy and tranquil tone of mind which is essential to genuine happi- ness . Of all human glory , it is the least allied to " a sober certainty " of enjoyment . It ...
... praise that grows with what it feeds on , and too often destroys that healthy and tranquil tone of mind which is essential to genuine happi- ness . Of all human glory , it is the least allied to " a sober certainty " of enjoyment . It ...
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... . The more he has the more he covets . His greatest gains are small in comparison to his hopes , that are like hollow things , only swelled the more by every breath of praise . To be happy , therefore , he should effect that.
... . The more he has the more he covets . His greatest gains are small in comparison to his hopes , that are like hollow things , only swelled the more by every breath of praise . To be happy , therefore , he should effect that.
Page 10
... praise , Who gave us nobler loves and nobler cares- The poets , who on earth have made us heirs , Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays ! Oh ! might my name be numbered among theirs , Then gladly would I end my mortal days ! ” It ...
... praise , Who gave us nobler loves and nobler cares- The poets , who on earth have made us heirs , Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays ! Oh ! might my name be numbered among theirs , Then gladly would I end my mortal days ! ” It ...
Page 14
... praise , that he is indifferent to its quality . This is not the case . The smiles of vulgar patronage , or the blundering eulogies of ignorance , are always offensive and disgusting . " I love praise , " says Cowper in one of his ...
... praise , that he is indifferent to its quality . This is not the case . The smiles of vulgar patronage , or the blundering eulogies of ignorance , are always offensive and disgusting . " I love praise , " says Cowper in one of his ...
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Common terms and phrases
admiration alluded amongst Anna Seward Atossa beauty Bolingbroke breast breath bright Chalkhill character Charlotte Smith charm cheerful Clearchus clouds conversation critics dear death delightful dreams Dryden Duchess of Marlborough E'en Earl of Marchmont egotism egotist Essay external face fair fame fancy feeling friendship genius gleam glorious glory happy harmony hath heart Horace Walpole human intellectual John Chalkhill Johnson labour Leigh Hunt less light lines literary look Lord Bolingbroke Lord Byron mankind Marchmont memory Milton mind Montaigne nature never o'er observed once passage passion perhaps Petrarch physiognomy pleasure poem poet poet's poetical poetry Pope Pope's praise prose reader remarks says scene seems Shakspeare silent Sir Egerton Brydges smile sonnet soul sound speak spirit stanza style sweet talk taste tender Thealma thine thing thou thought tion truth verse voice words writers
Popular passages
Page 278 - Now stir the 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 peaceful evening in.
Page 330 - Phoebus lifts his golden fire: The birds in vain their amorous descant join, Or cheerful fields resume their green attire. These ears, alas! for other notes repine; A different object do these eyes require; My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine; And in my breast the imperfect joys expire; Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer, And new-born pleasure brings to happier men; The fields to all their wonted tribute bear; To warm their little loves the birds complain. I fruitless mourn to him that...
Page 95 - Less than a god they thought there could not dwell Within the hollow of that shell That spoke so sweetly and so well. What passion cannot Music raise and quell!
Page 127 - Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be, In every work regard the writer's end, Since none can compass more than they intend; And if the means be just, the conduct true, Applause, in spite of trivial faults, is due.
Page 89 - Tis not enough no harshness gives offence, The sound must seem an echo to the sense. Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar...
Page 200 - CYRIACK, this three years' day these eyes, though clear, To outward view, of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot ; Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman.
Page 91 - Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.
Page 256 - See, what a grace was seated on this brow; Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; A station like the herald Mercury, New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; A combination, and a form, indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man : This was your husband.
Page 147 - Neither a borrower nor a lender be ; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
Page 95 - Now strike the golden lyre again: A louder yet, and yet a louder strain ! Break his bands of sleep asunder And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark, hark ! the horrid sound Has raised up his head : As awaked from the dead, And amazed he stares around. Revenge, revenge...