The Rudiments of Criticism

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Clarendon Press, 1916 - 191 頁
 

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第 71 頁 - Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, The glowing violet, The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears; Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffodillies fill their cups with tears, To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies.
第 70 頁 - We heard the sweet bells over the bay ? In the caverns where we lay, Through the surf and through the swell The far-off sound of a silver bell ? Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep, Where the winds are all asleep ; Where the spent lights quiver and gleam ; Where the salt weed sways in the stream...
第 15 頁 - I LOVE it, I love it ; and who shall dare To chide me for loving that old Arm-chair ? I've treasured it long as a sainted prize ; I've bedewed it with tears, and embalmed it with sighs. 'Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart ; Not a tie will break, not a link will start. Would ye learn the spell ? — a mother sat there ; And a sacred thing is that old Arm-chair.
第 71 頁 - EARTH has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
第 105 頁 - The cold sweat melted from their limbs, Nor rot nor reek did they ; The look with which they looked on me Had never passed away. An orphan's curse would drag to hell A spirit from on high ; But oh ! more horrible than that Is a curse in a dead man's eye ! Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse, And yet I could not die.
第 53 頁 - ... Revenge with a swarthier alien crew, And away she sail'd with her loss and long'd for her own; When a wind from the lands they had ruin'd awoke from sleep,. And the water began to heave and the weather to moan, And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew, And a wave like the wave that is raised by an earthquake grew, Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and their flags, And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot-shatter'd navy of Spain, And the little Revenge...
第 25 頁 - Why, well; Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now; and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience.
第 146 頁 - The preacher then launched into his subject, like an eagle dallying with the wind. The sermon was upon peace and war — upon church and state — not their alliance, but their separation — on the spirit of the world, and the spirit of Christianity, not as the same, but as opposed to one another. He talked of those who had inscribed the cross of Christ on banners dripping with human gore.
第 58 頁 - Ah Love! could you and I with Fate conspire To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, Would not we shatter it to bits — and then Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
第 16 頁 - I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me; Voice only fails, else, how distinct they say, 'Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!

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