Biographical and Critical Miscellanies

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J.B. Lippincott & Company, 1864 - 729 strani
 

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Stran 580 - 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 424 - And Hercules might blush to learn how far Beyond the limits he had vainly set, The dullest sea-boat soon shall wing her way. Men 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. At our Antipodes are cities, states, And thronged empires, ne'er divined of yore. But see, the Sun speeds on his western path To glad the nations with expected light.
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 61 - Harmonious numbers ; as the wakeful bird Sings darkling, and in shadiest covert hid Tunes her nocturnal note...
Stran 592 - 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 444 - And, more, to lulle him in his slumber soft, A trickling streame from high rock tumbling downe, And ever-drizling raine upon the loft, Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne Of swarming bees, did cast him in a swowne: No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes, As still are wont t' annoy the walled towne, Might there be heard: but carelesse Quiet lyes, Wrapt in eternall silence farre from enimyes.
Stran 228 - I lie simmering over things for an hour or so before I get up — and there's the time I am dressing to overhaul my half-sleeping half-waking projet de chapitre — and when I get the paper before me, it commonly runs off pretty easily. Besides, I often take a doze in the plantations, and, while Tom marks out a dyke or a drain as I have directed, one's fancy may be running its ain riggs in some other world.
Stran 185 - 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 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 268 - Whoever wishes to attain an English style, familiar but not coarse, and elegant but not ostentations, must give his days and nights to the volumes of Addison.

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