Critical Essays and Literary Notes

Εξώφυλλο
Sampson Low, Marston, Searle, & Rivington, 1880 - 382 σελίδες
 

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Σελίδα 254 - HE clasps the crag with hooked hands ; Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ringed with the azure world, he stands. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls ; He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls.
Σελίδα 24 - I CHATTER over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles, I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles. With many a curve my banks I fret By many a field and fallow, And many a fairy foreland set With willow-weed and mallow.
Σελίδα 272 - As when in heaven the stars about the moon Look beautiful, when all the winds are laid, And every height comes out, and jutting peak And valley, and the immeasurable heavens Break open to their highest, and all the stars Shine, and the Shepherd gladdens in his heart...
Σελίδα 8 - He sank, he rose, he twinkled, he trolled Within that shaft of sunny mist ; His eyes of fire, his beak of gold, , All else of amethyst ! And thus he sang : " Adieu ! adieu ! Love's dreams prove seldom true. The blossoms, they make no delay : The sparkling dew-drops will not stay. Sweet month of May, We must away ; Far, far away ! To-day! to-day!
Σελίδα 178 - TO him who in the love of nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
Σελίδα 26 - Thy voice is heard thro' rolling drums, That beat to battle where he stands; Thy face across his fancy comes, And gives the battle to his hands : A moment, while the trumpets blow, He sees his brood about thy knee ; The next, like fire he meets the foe, And strikes him dead for thine and thee. So Lilia sang: we thought her halfpossess'd, She struck such warbling fury thro...
Σελίδα 264 - When he took off the gyves. A bearded man. Armed to the teeth, art thou ; one mailed hand Grasps the broad shield, and one the sword ; thy brow, Glorious in beauty though it be, is scarred With tokens of old wars; thy massive limbs Are strong with struggling. Power at thee has launched His bolts, and with his lightnings smitten thee : They could not quench the life thou hast from heaven.
Σελίδα 9 - The broken sheds look'd sad and strange : Unlifted was the clinking latch ; Weeded and worn the ancient thatch Upon the lonely moated grange. She only said, " My life is dreary, He cometh not...
Σελίδα 253 - Armour rusting in his halls On the blood of Clifford calls ;— ' Quell the Scot/ exclaims the lance — ' Bear me to the heart of France...
Σελίδα 250 - But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free, Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word; And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be. Come, when his task of fame is wrought — Come, with her laurel-leaf, blood-bought...

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