English Literature of Nineteenth Century: On the Plan of the Author's "Compendium of English Literature" and Supplementary to It. Designed for Colleges and Advanced ClassesBancroft, 1869 - 798 من الصفحات |
من داخل الكتاب
النتائج 1-5 من 50
الصفحة 57
... breath , Still pour the fervent prayer : And ye , whose smile must greet my eye No more , nor voice my ear , Who breathe for me the tender sigh , And shed the pitying tear , Whose kindness ( though far , far removed ) My grateful ...
... breath , Still pour the fervent prayer : And ye , whose smile must greet my eye No more , nor voice my ear , Who breathe for me the tender sigh , And shed the pitying tear , Whose kindness ( though far , far removed ) My grateful ...
الصفحة 64
... breathing his last in his native city , and Mrs. Grahame set out with him , on the 11th of September , for Glasgow . He was barely able to reach the place , and died there on the 14th of September , 1811 , in the forty- seventh year of ...
... breathing his last in his native city , and Mrs. Grahame set out with him , on the 11th of September , for Glasgow . He was barely able to reach the place , and died there on the 14th of September , 1811 , in the forty- seventh year of ...
الصفحة 65
... breathing in the silence of the woods , And blessing Him who gave the Sabbath - day ! Yes ! my heart flutters with a freer throb , To think that now the townsman wanders forth Among the fields and meadows , to enjoy The coolness of the ...
... breathing in the silence of the woods , And blessing Him who gave the Sabbath - day ! Yes ! my heart flutters with a freer throb , To think that now the townsman wanders forth Among the fields and meadows , to enjoy The coolness of the ...
الصفحة 82
... breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die , To cease upon the midnight with no pain , While thou art pouring ... breathing . Therefore on every morrow are we wreathing 1 The Opening of Endymion . A flowery band to bind us to the ...
... breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die , To cease upon the midnight with no pain , While thou art pouring ... breathing . Therefore on every morrow are we wreathing 1 The Opening of Endymion . A flowery band to bind us to the ...
الصفحة 83
... breath of morn , Far from the fiery noon and eve's one star , Sat gray - haired Saturn , quiet as a stone , Still as the silence round about his lair ; Forest on forest hung about his head Like cloud on cloud . No stir of air was there ...
... breath of morn , Far from the fiery noon and eve's one star , Sat gray - haired Saturn , quiet as a stone , Still as the silence round about his lair ; Forest on forest hung about his head Like cloud on cloud . No stir of air was there ...
المحتوى
17 | |
24 | |
32 | |
39 | |
85 | |
91 | |
144 | |
155 | |
271 | |
283 | |
297 | |
310 | |
334 | |
514 | |
590 | |
630 | |
170 | |
171 | |
192 | |
198 | |
212 | |
219 | |
636 | |
680 | |
738 | |
749 | |
755 | |
788 | |
طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
admiration appeared beautiful Blackwood's Magazine bless born breath called character Charles Lamb child Christian church Coleridge critic dark death delight divine earth Edinburgh Review edition Encyclopædia Britannica England English Essays eyes fame fancy father feel flowers genius glory grace grave hand happy hath heart heaven Henry Kirke White History honor hope hour human labor lady light literary literature lived London look Lord Milton mind moral Moscow nature never night noble North British Review o'er passion pleasure poem poet poetical poetry poor praise prayer published racter rich Robert Pollok scene Shakspeare Sir Walter Scott smile song sorrow soul spirit stranger's heart style sublime sweet taste tears thee thine thing thou thought tion truth University of Edinburgh verse voice volumes wonder words writings young youth
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 99 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him.
الصفحة 143 - Brightest and best of the sons of the morning, Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid; Star of the East, the horizon adorning, Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid.
الصفحة 123 - Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown. For the Angel of Death...
الصفحة 430 - THE world is too much with us: late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not.
الصفحة 541 - Nay, not so," Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, But cheerly still ; and said, " I pray thee, then, Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.
الصفحة 127 - SHE walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies ; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes : Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
الصفحة 124 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather'd then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell; But hush!
الصفحة 82 - 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...
الصفحة 220 - 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! Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? GOD! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, GOD!
الصفحة 430 - MILTON ! thou should'st be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.