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الصفحة 426 - It was not in the battle ; No tempest gave the shock ; She sprang no fatal leak ; She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men. Weigh the vessel up, Once dreaded by our foes ! And mingle with our cup The tear that England owes. Her timbers yet are sound, And she may float again, Full charged with England's thunder, And plough the distant main. But Kempenfelt is gone ; His victories are o'er ; And he and his eight...
الصفحة 19 - Or view the Lord of the unerring bow, The God of Life, and Poesy, and Light — The Sun in human limbs arrayed, and brow All radiant from his triumph in the fight ; The shaft hath just been shot— the arrow bright With an Immortal's vengeance— in his eye And nostril beautiful Disdain, and Might And Majesty, flash their full lightnings by, Developing in that one glance the Deity.
الصفحة 76 - We wish, finally, that the last object to the sight of him who leaves his native shore, and the first to gladden his who revisits it, may be something which shall remind him of the liberty and the glory of his country. Let it rise! let it rise till it meet the sun in his coming; let the earliest light of the morning gild it, and parting day linger and play on its summit.
الصفحة 443 - But if the wife should drink of it first God help the husband then ! The stranger stooped to the Well of St. Keyne And drank of the water again. " You drank of the Well I warrant betimes ? " He to the Cornishman said. But the Cornishman smiled as the stranger spake And sheepishly shook his head. " I hastened as soon as the Wedding was done And left my wife in the porch. But i' faith she had been wiser than me, For she took a bottle to Church ! " ' An interesting variation from the usual run of Wishing...
الصفحة 443 - ... the building can be traced; and then there opens before us a vast cave, hewn out into the form of a cross, and divided into shadowy aisles by many pillars. Round the domes of its roof the light enters only through narrow apertures like large stars; and here and there a ray or two from some far-away casement wanders into the darkness, and casts a narrow phosphoric stream upon the waves of marble that heave and fall in a thousand colors along the floor.
الصفحة 325 - The orthodox high-church sound of the Mitre, — the figure and manner of the celebrated Samuel Johnson, — the extraordinary power and precision of his conversation, and the pride arising from finding myself admitted as his companion, produced a variety of sensations, and a pleasing elevation of mind beyond what I had ever before experienced.
الصفحة 109 - Gibbon tapping his snuff-box and Sir Joshua with his trumpet in his ear. In the foreground is that strange figure which is as familiar to us as the figures of those among whom we have been brought up, the gigantic body, the huge massy face, seamed with the scars of disease, the brown coat, the black worsted stockings, the gray wig with the scorched foretop, the dirty hands, the nails bitten and pared to the quick.
الصفحة 443 - Through the heavy door whose bronze network closes the place of his rest, let us enter the church itself. It is lost in still deeper twilight, to which the eye must be accustomed for some moments before the form of the building can be traced; and then there opens before us a vast cave, hewn out into the form of a Cross, and divided into shadowy aisles by many pillars.
الصفحة 31 - It is made up of incongruous parts. The village in its happy days is a true English village. The village in its decay is an Irish village. The felicity and the misery which Goldsmith has brought close together belong to two different countries, and to two different stages in the progress of society. He 'had assuredly never seen in his native island such a rural paradise, such a seat of plenty, content, and tranquillity, as his Auburn.