The National Review, 第 4 卷R. Theobald, 1857 |
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共有 78 个结果,这是第 1-5 个
第3页
... doubt true that , to an infinite intelligence , the whole of Shakespeare would be as distinctly pictured in any one of his myriad attitudes of spirit as the whole of Words- worth in his single mood ; indeed all men have a dim feeling ...
... doubt true that , to an infinite intelligence , the whole of Shakespeare would be as distinctly pictured in any one of his myriad attitudes of spirit as the whole of Words- worth in his single mood ; indeed all men have a dim feeling ...
第4页
... doubt meant a great deal more than this , and no doubt he was thinking mainly of his own works . He meant not merely that the choice of the ( nominal ) matter depends on the manner of the poet , but that , in his own case at least , the ...
... doubt meant a great deal more than this , and no doubt he was thinking mainly of his own works . He meant not merely that the choice of the ( nominal ) matter depends on the manner of the poet , but that , in his own case at least , the ...
第8页
... doubt who compares him with any other of our great poets . All other poets create their poetry , and even their meditative poetry , in the act of throwing themselves into the life of the scene or train of thought or feeling they are ...
... doubt who compares him with any other of our great poets . All other poets create their poetry , and even their meditative poetry , in the act of throwing themselves into the life of the scene or train of thought or feeling they are ...
第16页
... doubt he had even too complete a poetic mastery over himself , or rather perhaps he had too quiet a nature to master . He could not distinguish the arbitrary in his poetry from the conscious conquests of insight . And being , as we have ...
... doubt he had even too complete a poetic mastery over himself , or rather perhaps he had too quiet a nature to master . He could not distinguish the arbitrary in his poetry from the conscious conquests of insight . And being , as we have ...
第24页
... doubt , when he ends a fine poem with the verse— " Matthew is in his grave ; yet now Methinks I see him stand , As at that moment , with a bough Of wilding in his hand . " But it is not an egotism to tell us , as he does in the Prelude ...
... doubt , when he ends a fine poem with the verse— " Matthew is in his grave ; yet now Methinks I see him stand , As at that moment , with a bough Of wilding in his hand . " But it is not an egotism to tell us , as he does in the Prelude ...
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第29页 - THREE years she grew in sun and shower ; Then Nature said : " A lovelier flower On earth was never sown ; This child I to myself will take ; She shall be mine, and I will make A lady of my own. " Myself will to my darling be Both law and impulse ; and with me The girl, in rock and plain, In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, Shall feel an overseeing power, To kindle or restrain.
第29页 - The floating Clouds their state shall lend To her ; for her the willow bend ; Nor shall she fail to see Even in the motions of the Storm Grace that shall mould the Maiden's form By silent sympathy.
第21页 - A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A Creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food; For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine...
第12页 - Pressed closely palm to palm, and to his mouth Uplifted, he, as through an instrument, Blew mimic hootings to the silent owls, That they might answer him. And they would shout Across the watery vale, and .shout again, Responsive to his call...
第13页 - Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise Has carried far into his heart the voice Of mountain -torrents; or the visible scene Would enter unawares into his mind With all its solemn imagery, its rocks, Its woods, and that uncertain heaven received Into the bosom of the steady lake.
第9页 - My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard. " Thus fares it still in our decay : And yet the wiser mind Mourns less for what age takes away Than what it leaves behind.
第9页 - Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
第24页 - Oh! when I have hung Above the raven's nest, by knots of grass And half-inch fissures in the slippery rock But ill sustained, and almost (so it seemed) Suspended by the blast that blew amain, Shouldering the naked crag, oh, at that time While on the perilous ridge I hung alone, With what strange utterance did the loud dry wind Blow through my ear! the sky seemed not a sky Of earth — and with what motion moved the clouds!
第14页 - And when the ground was white with snow, And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go, And he lies by her side.
第10页 - Contingencies of pomp ; and serve to exalt Her native brightness. As the ample moon, In the deep stillness of a summer even Rising behind a thick and lofty grove, Burns, like an unconsuming fire of light, In the green trees ; and, kindling on all sides Their leafy umbrage, turns the dusky veil Into a substance glorious as her own, Yea, with her own incorporated, by power Capacious and serene.