The Poems and Prose Remains of Arthur Hugh Clough: With a Selection from His Letters and a Memoir, 2. kötet

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Macmillan, 1869 - 514 oldal
 

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447. oldal - ... the stern reclining, watch below The foaming wake far widening as we go. On stormy nights when wild northwesters rave, How proud a thing to fight with wind and wave! The dripping sailor on the reeling mast Exults to bear, and scorns to wish it past. Where lies the land to which the ship would go? Far, far ahead, is all her seamen know. And where the land she travels from? Away, Far, far behind, is all that they can say.
40. oldal - E'en so — but why the tale reveal Of those whom, year by year unchanged, Brief absence joined anew to feel, Astounded, soul from soul estranged ? At dead of night their sails were filled, And onward each rejoicing steered ; Ah, neither blame, for neither willed...
104. oldal - THROUGH the great sinful streets of Naples as I past, With fiercer heat than flamed above my head My heart was hot within me ; till at last My brain was lightened when my tongue had said — Christ is not risen...
133. oldal - Afloat ; we move. Delicious ! Ah, What else is like the gondola ? This level floor of liquid glass Begins beneath us swift to pass. It goes as though it went alone By some impulsion of its own. (How light it moves, how softly ! Ah, Were all things like the gondola...
490. oldal - And though the stranger stand, 'tis true, By force and fortune's right he stands ; By fortune, which is in God's hands, And strength, which yet shall spring in you. This voice did on my spirit fall, Peschiera, when thy bridge I crost, ' 'Tis better to have fought and lost, Than never to have fought at all.
493. oldal - Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers, And, but for you, possess the field. For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, Seem here no painful inch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Comes silent, flooding in, the main. And not by eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light; In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, But westward, look, the land is bright.
22. oldal - I HAVE seen higher holier things than these, And therefore must to these refuse my heart, Yet am I panting for a little ease ; I'll take, and so depart. Ah, hold ! the heart is prone to fall away, Her high and cherished visions to forget, And if thou takest, how wilt thou repay So vast, so dread a debt? How will the heart, which now thou trustest, then Corrupt, yet in corruption mindful yet, Turn with sharp stings upon itself!
104. oldal - He is not risen, no — He lies and moulders low ; Christ is not risen ! What if the women, ere the dawn was grey, Saw one or more great angels, as they say (Angels, or Him Himself) ? Yet neither there, nor then, Nor afterwards, nor elsewhere, nor at all, Hath He appeared to Peter or the Ten ; Nor, save in thunderous terror, to blind Saul ; Save in an after Gospel and late Creed, He is not risen, indeed,- — Christ is not risen ! Or, what if e'en, as runs a tale, the Ten Saw, heard, and touched,...
89. oldal - Chastised each rebel self-encentered thought, My will adoreth Thine. With eye down-dropt, if then this earthly mind Speechless remain, or speechless e'en depart; Nor seek to see — for what of earthly kind Can see Thee as Thou art...
139. oldal - I can pay for the damage, if ever so bad. So pleasant it is to have money, heigh ho ! So pleasant it is to have money.

A szerzőről (1869)

Arthur Hugh Clough was born on the first day of 1819 to James and Ann Clough in Liverpool, England. A poet who studied at Rugby and Oxford, Clough had radical political and religious beliefs. After going to France to support the revolution of 1848, Clough traveled to the United States hoping to obtain a position at Harvard. When that did not work out, Clough returned home and married Blanch Smith. Soon after, Clough spent much of his time helping his wife's cousin, Florence Nightingale, lobby for reform in hospitals and in the nursing profession. Throughout the 1850s, Clough worked on a translation of Plutarch's Lives and a large poem, Mari Magno. Clough died in Florence, Italy, on November 13, 1861, at the age of 42.

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