Essays on the Poets: And Other English Writers

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Ticknor, Reed and Fields, 1853 - 296页
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第34页 - The cock is crowing, The stream is flowing, The small birds twitter, The lake doth glitter, The green field sleeps in the sun ; The oldest and youngest Are at work with the strongest ; The cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising ; There are forty feeding like one...
第12页 - The pleasure-house is dust : behind, before, This is no common waste, no common gloom ; But Nature, in due course of time, once more Shall here put on her beauty and her bloom. "She leaves these objects to a slow decay, That what we are, and have been, may be known ; But at the coming of the milder day These monuments shall all be overgrown.
第257页 - When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones, Forget not : in thy book record their groans Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold Slain by the bloody Piedmontese, that rolled Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans The vales redoubled to the hills and they To heaven.
第62页 - The cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place.
第41页 - From an eternity of idleness I, God, awoke ; in seven days' toil made earth From nothing ; rested, and created man : I placed him in a paradise, and there Planted the tree of evil, so that he Might eat and perish, and my soul procure Wherewith to sate its malice, and to turn, Even like a heartless conqueror of the earth, All misery to my fame.
第53页 - I do remember well the hour which burst My spirit's sleep: a fresh May-dawn it was, When I walked forth upon the glittering grass, And wept, I knew not why; until there rose From the near schoolroom, voices, that, alas! Were but one echo from a world of woes — The harsh and grating strife of tyrants and of foes.
第42页 - O almighty one, I tremble and obey ! " O Spirit ! centuries have set their seal On this heart of many wounds, and loaded brain, Since the Incarnate came : humbly he came, Veiling his horrible Godhead in the shape Of man, scorned by the world, his name unheard, Save by the rabble of his native town, Even as a parish demagogue.
第53页 - I will be wise, And just, and free, and mild, if in me lies Such power, for I grow weary to behold The selfish and the strong still tyrannize Without reproach or check.
第174页 - Calista prov'd her conduct nice, And good Simplicius asks of her advice. Sudden she storms ! she raves ! you tip the wink; But spare your censure ; Silia does not drink. All eyes may see from what the change arose ; All eyes may see — a pimple on her nose. Papillia, wedded to her amorous spark, Sighs for the shades —
第86页 - Keats, who was kill'd off by one critique, Just as he really promised something great, If not intelligible, without Greek, Contrived to talk about the gods of late, Much as they might have been supposed to speak. Poor fellow ! his was an untoward fate; 'Tis strange the mind, that very fiery particle, Should let itself be snufFd out by an article.

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