Cyclopædia of English literature, Volume 21844 |
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Page 2
... pride , though it was and generosity of his maternal grandmother , Lady'pride that licks the dust , ' had left him almost with- Mason , who placed him at a grammar - school in St Albans . Whilst he was there Lord Rivers died , and in ...
... pride , though it was and generosity of his maternal grandmother , Lady'pride that licks the dust , ' had left him almost with- Mason , who placed him at a grammar - school in St Albans . Whilst he was there Lord Rivers died , and in ...
Page 11
... pride On this reversion takes up ready praise ; At least their own ; their future selves applaud ; How excellent that life they ne'er will lead ! Time lodged in their own hands is Folly's vails ; That lodged in Fate's to wisdom they ...
... pride On this reversion takes up ready praise ; At least their own ; their future selves applaud ; How excellent that life they ne'er will lead ! Time lodged in their own hands is Folly's vails ; That lodged in Fate's to wisdom they ...
Page 16
... pride : Almost on Nature's common bounty fed ; Like the gay birds that sung them to repose , 16 FROM 1727 TO 1780 . CYCLOPEDIA OF Autumn Evening Scene, Italians and Swiss Contrasted, Episode of Lavinia, France Contrasted with Holland ...
... pride : Almost on Nature's common bounty fed ; Like the gay birds that sung them to repose , 16 FROM 1727 TO 1780 . CYCLOPEDIA OF Autumn Evening Scene, Italians and Swiss Contrasted, Episode of Lavinia, France Contrasted with Holland ...
Page 17
... pride of swains Palemon was , the generous , and the rich ; Who led the rural life in all its joy And elegance , such as Arcadian song Transmits from ancient uncorrupted times ; When tyrant custom had not shackled man , But free to ...
... pride of swains Palemon was , the generous , and the rich ; Who led the rural life in all its joy And elegance , such as Arcadian song Transmits from ancient uncorrupted times ; When tyrant custom had not shackled man , But free to ...
Page 19
... pride of man . Such as of late at Carthagena quenched The British fire . You , gallant Vernon , saw The miserable scene ; you , pitying , saw To infant weakness sunk the warrior's arm ; Saw the deep racking pang , the ghastly form , The ...
... pride of man . Such as of late at Carthagena quenched The British fire . You , gallant Vernon , saw The miserable scene ; you , pitying , saw To infant weakness sunk the warrior's arm ; Saw the deep racking pang , the ghastly form , The ...
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Common terms and phrases
ancient appeared beauty beneath blank verse breast breath bright character charms clouds Colonsay dark dear death deep delight Dr Johnson earth England fair fame fancy father fear feel flowers genius grace grave green hand happy hast hear heard heart heaven hill honour hope Horace Walpole hour human king labour Lady light live look Lord Lord Byron lyre mind moral morning mountains mourn muse native nature never night o'er pain passion peace pleasure poem poet poetical poetry praise pride published racter rill Rodmond round scene Scotland seems shade sigh Sir Walter Scott sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit stream style sublime sweet taste tears tender thee thou thought tion Tom Jones Twas uncle Toby vale verse virtue voice wandering wave wild wind young youth
Popular passages
Page 410 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
Page 32 - How sleep the brave who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung ; By forms unseen their dirge is sung ; There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; And freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there ! ODE TO MERCY.
Page 398 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Page 327 - The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Page 56 - Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance, by lonely contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, "Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn...
Page 340 - Like one that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And, having once turned round, walks on, And turns no more his head, Because he knows a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread.
Page 219 - In thoughts from the visions of the night, When deep sleep falleth on men, Fear came upon me, and trembling, Which made all my bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face; The hair of my flesh stood up: It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: An image was before mine eyes, There was silence, and I heard a voice, saying, Shall mortal man be more just than God?
Page 406 - 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...
Page 327 - For I have learned To look on nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity, Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue. And I have felt A presence that disturbs me with the joy Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime Of something far more deeply interfused, Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, And the round ocean and the living air, And the blue sky, and in the mind of man...
Page 406 - Darkling I listen ; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, — Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath, — Now more than ever seems it rich to die ; To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy ! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod.