Cambridge Essays, Volumul 1John W. Parker and son, 1855 |
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Pagina 1
... hope , in his measure and degree , to contribute something , were it but a mite . As regards the events in Molière's life , we plume our- selves less on the facts narrated than on the fictions omitted -fictions at which most biographers ...
... hope , in his measure and degree , to contribute something , were it but a mite . As regards the events in Molière's life , we plume our- selves less on the facts narrated than on the fictions omitted -fictions at which most biographers ...
Pagina 5
... hope of cure , and think to enhance the glories of Molière's meridian splendour by shrouding his aurora in murky clouds . No doubt it makes a pretty frontispiece to a life of Molière , to represent him as compelled by a stern sire to ...
... hope of cure , and think to enhance the glories of Molière's meridian splendour by shrouding his aurora in murky clouds . No doubt it makes a pretty frontispiece to a life of Molière , to represent him as compelled by a stern sire to ...
Pagina 43
... hope to write well hereafter in laudable things , ought himself to be a true poem ; that is , a composition and pattern of the honourablest things . ' In few cases , we firmly believe , has the truth of this principle met with a fitter ...
... hope to write well hereafter in laudable things , ought himself to be a true poem ; that is , a composition and pattern of the honourablest things . ' In few cases , we firmly believe , has the truth of this principle met with a fitter ...
Pagina 80
... hope of their interest becoming so far engaged in their new studies as to tempt them on to a steadier course of inquiry . Creation is thronged with matters which solicit the attention of every earnest mind , and it is not to be expected ...
... hope of their interest becoming so far engaged in their new studies as to tempt them on to a steadier course of inquiry . Creation is thronged with matters which solicit the attention of every earnest mind , and it is not to be expected ...
Pagina 98
... hope to invent any method by which a student at his fire - side may inform himself as justly of a foreign land as if he had actually travelled there , let us , at all events , do what we can , and try to record in our ordinary maps all ...
... hope to invent any method by which a student at his fire - side may inform himself as justly of a foreign land as if he had actually travelled there , let us , at all events , do what we can , and try to record in our ordinary maps all ...
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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
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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...