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Stran 588 - A wet sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast, And fills the white and rustling sail, And bends the gallant mast; And bends the gallant mast, my boys, While, like the eagle free, Away the good ship flies, and leaves Old England on the lee. O for a soft and gentle wind!
Stran 276 - Such equivocations are always unskilful ; but here they are indecent, and at least approach to impiety, of which, however, I believe the writer not to have been conscious. Such is the power of reputation justly acquired, that its blaze drives away the eye from nice examination. Surely no man could have fancied that he read Lycidas with pleasure, had he not known the author.
Stran 322 - The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the roof above them — ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of anthems ; in the darkling wood, Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down, And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks And supplication.
Stran 588 - I heard a fair one cry; But give to me the snoring breeze And white waves heaving high; And white waves heaving high, my boys, The good ship tight and free — The world of waters is our home, And merry men are we.
Stran 600 - The truth of it is, the finest writers among the modern Italians express themselves in such a florid form of words and such tedious circumlocutions as are used by none but pedants in our own country ; and at the same time fill their writings with such poor imaginations and conceits as our youths are ashamed of before they have been two years at the university.
Stran 210 - The sun upon the Weirdlaw Hill, In Ettrick's vale, is sinking sweet ; The westland wind is hush and still — The lake lies sleeping at my feet. Yet not the landscape to mine eye Bears those bright hues that once it bore : Though evening, with her richest dye, Flames o'er the hills of Ettrick's shore. ' With listless look along the plain I see Tweed's silver current glide, And coldly mark the holy fane Of Melrose rise in ruin'd pride.
Stran 187 - I only wished I had been as good a player on the flute as poor George Primrose in the Vicar of Wakefield. If I had his art, I should like nothing better than to tramp like him from cottage to cottage over the world.
Stran 198 - At length he said, with perfect cheerfulness, ' Well, well, James, so be it — but you know we must not droop, for we can't afford to give over. Since one line has failed, we must just stick to something else:' — and so he dismissed me, and resumed his novel.
Stran 238 - People may say this and that of the pleasure of fame, or of profit, as a motive of writing ; I think the only pleasure is in the actual exertion and research, and I would no more write upon any other terms than I would hunt merely to dine upon hare-soup. At the same time, if credit and profit came unlocked for I would no more quarrel with them than with the soup.
Stran 426 - Know that this theory is false; his bark The daring mariner shall urge far o'er The western wave, a smooth and level plain, Albeit the earth is fashioned like a wheel. Man was in ancient days of grosser mould, And Hercules might blush to learn how far Beyond the limits he had vainly set, The dullest sea-boat soon shall wing her way. Man shall descry another hemisphere. Since to one common centre all things tend, So earth, by curious mystery divine Well balanced, hangs amid the starry spheres.