Cambridge Essays, Volumul 1John W. Parker and son, 1855 |
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Rezultatele 1 - 5 din 72
Pagina 2
... common friend to procure from M. Samson , of histrionic celebrity , some precise information on this subject . The result we give in his own words : - Aucun manu- scrit , pas une seule ligne de la main de Molière n'existe dans les ...
... common friend to procure from M. Samson , of histrionic celebrity , some precise information on this subject . The result we give in his own words : - Aucun manu- scrit , pas une seule ligne de la main de Molière n'existe dans les ...
Pagina 12
... common object they endeavour to compass . Et chaque acte dans la pièce est une pièce entière . Still , amid all the defects which impartial criticism may discover in this play , we must in justice remember that the flow of language ...
... common object they endeavour to compass . Et chaque acte dans la pièce est une pièce entière . Still , amid all the defects which impartial criticism may discover in this play , we must in justice remember that the flow of language ...
Pagina 34
... common usages of life , may possibly be every whit as good Christians , and as upright men , as their more quixotic censor . In a country like France , where drawing - room palaver is at a higher premium than in England , it is probable ...
... common usages of life , may possibly be every whit as good Christians , and as upright men , as their more quixotic censor . In a country like France , where drawing - room palaver is at a higher premium than in England , it is probable ...
Pagina 35
... common sense and common charity . What Goethe could have been dreaming of , when he said that Shakspeare's Timon bordered on the comic , and Molière's Misanthrope on the tragic , it is hopeless to con- jecture . He must have been ...
... common sense and common charity . What Goethe could have been dreaming of , when he said that Shakspeare's Timon bordered on the comic , and Molière's Misanthrope on the tragic , it is hopeless to con- jecture . He must have been ...
Pagina 40
... common actor , or even an uncommon actor , was altogether infra dig . , and not to be thought of . Besides , Molière was dead - a fortunate thing for Bossuet , as he might have been worsted in the encounter . Under these circumstances ...
... common actor , or even an uncommon actor , was altogether infra dig . , and not to be thought of . Besides , Molière was dead - a fortunate thing for Bossuet , as he might have been worsted in the encounter . Under these circumstances ...
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Termeni și expresii frecvente
action Admiral Alceste allotropic American aragonite batteries beauty become bodies bromine called cause character chemical circumstances colour Comédie Française comedy common compound death doubt dramatic effect elements emotion enemy England English excite expression fact feelings force French genius geographical give Greek heart hero Hôtel de Rambouillet human hydrogen instance interest iodine kind language Le Misanthrope Le Tartuffe less literature live Locksley Hall marriage matter means mind modern Molière Molière's moral nature never novel novelists object observed ordinary passed passion peculiar perhaps person phosphorus picture play poem poet poetry Précieuses present principle racter reader remarkable represented Robinson Crusoe sail scene Shakspeare ships society steam story suppose Sveaborg Tartuffe temperature Tennyson things thought tion Tirso de Molina traveller true truth whole words writer
Pasaje populare
Pagina 43 - I was confirmed in this opinion, that he who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well hereafter in laudable things, ought himself to be a true poem...
Pagina 280 - but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone She cries " a thousand types are gone : I care for nothing, all shall go. " Thou makest thine appeal to me : I bring to life, I bring to death : The spirit does but mean the breath : I know no more.
Pagina 246 - Dry clash'd his harness in the icy caves And barren chasms, and all to left and right The bare black cliff clang'd round him, as he based His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels — And on a sudden, lo! the level lake, And the long glories of the winter moon.
Pagina 280 - Nature, red in tooth and claw With ravine, shriek'd against his creed — Who loved, who suffer'd countless ills, Who battled for the True, the Just, Be blown about the desert dust, Or seal'd within the iron hills ? No more ? A monster then, a dream, A discord. Dragons of the prime, That tare each other in their slime, Were mellow music match'd with him. O life as futile, then, as frail ! 0 for thy voice to soothe and bless ! What hope of answer, or redress ? Behind the veil, behind the veil.
Pagina 81 - And one, the reapers at their sultry toil. In front they bound the sheaves. Behind Were realms of upland, prodigal in oil, And hoary to the wind. And one, a foreground black with stones and slags, Beyond a line of heights, and higher All barr'd with long white cloud the scornful crags, And highest, snow and fire. And one, an English home— gray twilight pour'd On dewy pastures, dewy trees, Softer than sleep — all things in order stored, A haunt of ancient Peace.
Pagina 261 - Many a night from yonder ivied casement, ere I went to rest, Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly to the West. Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising thro' the mellow shade, Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid.
Pagina 261 - Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.
Pagina 245 - Thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt; Either from lust of gold, or like a girl Valuing the giddy pleasure of the eyes. Yet, for a man may fail in duty twice, And the third time may prosper, get thee hence: But, if thou spare to fling Excalibur, I will arise and slay thee with my hands.
Pagina 262 - I was left a trampled orphan, and a selfish uncle's ward. Or to burst all links of habit — there to wander far away, On from island unto island at the gateways of the day.
Pagina 278 - Unfettered by the sense of crime, To whom a conscience never wakes; Nor, what may count itself as blest, The heart that never plighted troth But stagnates in the weeds of sloth; Nor any want-begotten rest. I hold it true, whate'er...