Chambers's Cyclopædia of English Literature: A History, Critical and Biographical, of British and American Authors, with Specimens of Their Writings, 第 5-6 卷Robert Chambers American Book Exchange, 1880 |
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第 1 到 5 筆結果,共 86 筆
第 13 頁
... leaves fast fluttering all at once . Nor less composure waits upon the roar Of distant floods , or on the softer voice Of neighbouring fountain , or of rills that slip Through the cleft rock , and chiming as they fall Upon loose pebbles ...
... leaves fast fluttering all at once . Nor less composure waits upon the roar Of distant floods , or on the softer voice Of neighbouring fountain , or of rills that slip Through the cleft rock , and chiming as they fall Upon loose pebbles ...
第 22 頁
... leaves us free : But recollecting still that he is man , We trust him not too far . King though he be , And king in England too , he may be weak , And vain enough to be ambitious still ; May exercise amiss his proper powers , Or covet ...
... leaves us free : But recollecting still that he is man , We trust him not too far . King though he be , And king in England too , he may be weak , And vain enough to be ambitious still ; May exercise amiss his proper powers , Or covet ...
第 24 頁
... leaf , a fly A tree in Yardley Chace , near Olney , said to have been planted by Judith , daughter of William the Conqueror , and wife of Earl Waltheof . Could shake thee to the root - and time has 24 24 [ Το 1830 . CYCLOPÆDIA OF ...
... leaf , a fly A tree in Yardley Chace , near Olney , said to have been planted by Judith , daughter of William the Conqueror , and wife of Earl Waltheof . Could shake thee to the root - and time has 24 24 [ Το 1830 . CYCLOPÆDIA OF ...
第 31 頁
... leaves , be still ; Rest , silver butterflies , your quivering wings ; Alight , ye beetles , from your airy rings ; Ye painted moths , your gold - eyed plumage furl , Blow your wide horns , your spiral trunks uncurl ; Glitter , ye glow ...
... leaves , be still ; Rest , silver butterflies , your quivering wings ; Alight , ye beetles , from your airy rings ; Ye painted moths , your gold - eyed plumage furl , Blow your wide horns , your spiral trunks uncurl ; Glitter , ye glow ...
第 32 頁
... leaves ; Gives her white bosom to his eager lips , The salt tears mingling with the milk he sips ; Waits on the reed - crowned brink with pious guile , And trusts the scaly monsters of the Nile . Erewhile majestic from his lone abode ...
... leaves ; Gives her white bosom to his eager lips , The salt tears mingling with the milk he sips ; Waits on the reed - crowned brink with pious guile , And trusts the scaly monsters of the Nile . Erewhile majestic from his lone abode ...
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admiration afterwards Aiken-drum Allan Cunningham Allan Ramsay appeared bawbee beauty beneath bonny breath bright Burns Byron character Charles Lamb charm clouds Cockpen dark dear death deep delight died dream earth ELIZABETH INCHBALD eyes fair fancy father fear feeling flowers frae genius grave green hame hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven hill honour hope Horace Smith hour John Kilmeny lady lassie light literary live look Lord Lord Byron mind morning mountain native nature never night novel o'er passion poem poet poetical poetry published rose round says scenes Scotland Scott Scottish seemed shew silent Sir Walter Scott sleep smile song soul spirit stream sweet tale taste tears thee thine thing thou thought Twas Vathek verse voice volumes wandering wave wild William Laidlaw WILLIAM MOTHERWELL wind young youth
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第 140 頁 - tis her privilege. Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy; for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues. Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is full of blessings.
第 324 頁 - Nay, not so," Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, But cheerily still, and said, "I pray thee, then, Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.
第 158 頁 - The many men, so beautiful! And they all dead did lie: And a thousand thousand slimy things Lived on; and so did I.
第 290 頁 - Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon; Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, And on her silver cross soft amethyst, And on her hair a glory, like a saint: She seemed a splendid angel, newly drest, Save wings, for heaven: Porphyro grew faint: She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
第 137 頁 - Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side.
第 247 頁 - O woman ! in our hours of ease, uncertain, coy, and hard to please, and variable as the shade by the light, quivering aspen made ; when pain and anguish wring the brow, a ministering angel thou...
第 26 頁 - For saddle-tree scarce reached had he, His journey to begin, When, turning round his head, he saw Three customers come in. So down he came; for loss of time, Although it grieved him sore, Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, Would trouble him much more. Twas long before the customers Were suited to their mind, When Betty screaming came down stairs, 'The wine is left behind!' 'Good lack,' quoth he — 'yet bring it me, My leathern belt likewise, In which I bear my trusty sword, When I do exercise.
第 138 頁 - To them I may have owed another gift, Of aspect more sublime : that blessed mood In which the burthen of the mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world. Is lightened; that serene and blessed mood.
第 297 頁 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.
第 291 頁 - My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness, — That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.