The Indicator, 1. kötet |
Részletek a könyvből
1 - 5 találat összesen 5 találatból.
17. oldal
The story of Godiva is not a fiction , as many suppose it . At least it is to be found
in Matthew of Westminster , and is not of a nature to have been a mere invention .
Her name , and that of her husband , Leofric , are mentioned in an old charter ...
The story of Godiva is not a fiction , as many suppose it . At least it is to be found
in Matthew of Westminster , and is not of a nature to have been a mere invention .
Her name , and that of her husband , Leofric , are mentioned in an old charter ...
73. oldal
A man who does not contribute his quota of grim stories now - a - days , seems
hardly to be free of the republic of letters . ... A story , merely horrible or even
awful , which contains no sentiment elevating to the human heart and it's hopes ,
is a ...
A man who does not contribute his quota of grim stories now - a - days , seems
hardly to be free of the republic of letters . ... A story , merely horrible or even
awful , which contains no sentiment elevating to the human heart and it's hopes ,
is a ...
321. oldal
It has been supposed by some , we understand , that the author of the Cenci has
overcharged his story ; and these and other persons think that it is too horrible to
tell . We are no admirers of horrid stories in general , as we have observed in the
...
It has been supposed by some , we understand , that the author of the Cenci has
overcharged his story ; and these and other persons think that it is too horrible to
tell . We are no admirers of horrid stories in general , as we have observed in the
...
322. oldal
It is nothing but the old story of the Neros and Ezzelins in another shape . It is will
driven mad by the power of indulging itself . As to the impossibility of the story , let
those names and the writings of the elder dramatists answer all objections on ...
It is nothing but the old story of the Neros and Ezzelins in another shape . It is will
driven mad by the power of indulging itself . As to the impossibility of the story , let
those names and the writings of the elder dramatists answer all objections on ...
341. oldal
At the same time , we wish that for the purpose of his story he had not appeared
to give into the common - place of supposing that Apollonius's sophistry must
always prevail , and that modern experiment has done a deadly thing to poetry by
...
At the same time , we wish that for the purpose of his story he had not appeared
to give into the common - place of supposing that Apollonius's sophistry must
always prevail , and that modern experiment has done a deadly thing to poetry by
...
Mit mondanak mások - Írjon ismertetőt
Nem találtunk ismertetőket a szokott helyeken.
Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
admiration answer appears arriving asked beautiful become better body busie called comes common curious death delight doth eyes face fair father fear feel gave gentle give given grace green half hand happy head hear heard heart heaven hope human imagination INDICATOR it's Italy keep kind king knew lady least leave less light lived look manner master mean mind nature never night once pain passed perhaps person play pleasant pleasure poet poor present reader reason received respect round seems seen sense shew side sleep sort speak spirit story street suffer sweet tears tell thee thing thou thought told took touch true turn voice whole wish write young
Népszerű szakaszok
3. oldal - How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank* Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines...
347. oldal - Saturn, quiet as a stone, Still as the silence round about his lair ; Forest on forest hung about his head Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there, Not so much life as on a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
344. oldal - Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppress'd Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away : Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day ; Blissfully haven'd both from joy and pain ; Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray ; Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain, As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.
347. oldal - As she is famed to do, deceiving elf. Adieu ! adieu ! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades : Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: — do I wake or sleep?
345. oldal - Ode to a Nightingale MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk : Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness, — That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
88. oldal - THE fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the Ocean, The winds of Heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one spirit meet and mingle. Why not I with thine?
347. oldal - There was a listening fear in her regard, As if calamity had but begun; As if the vanward clouds of evil days Had spent their malice, and the sullen rear Was with its stored thunder labouring up.
11. oldal - Give me leave To enjoy myself : that place that does contain My books, the best companions, is to me A glorious court, where hourly I converse With the old sages and philosophers ; And sometimes, for variety, I confer With kings and emperors, and weigh their counsels ; Calling their victories, if unjustly got, Unto a strict account, and, in my fancy, Deface their ill-plac'd statues.
44. oldal - The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage! My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further, to make thee a room: Thou art a monument without a tomb, And art alive still while thy book doth live And we have wits to read and praise to give.
189. oldal - Sirens' harmony, That sit upon the nine infolded spheres, And sing to those that hold the vital shears, And turn the adamantine spindle round, On which the fate of Gods and men is wound. Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie, To lull the daughters of Necessity, And keep unsteady Nature to her law, And the low world in measured motion draw After the heavenly tune, which none can hear Of human mould, with gross unpurged ear...
Bibliográfiai információk
| Cím | The Indicator, 1. kötet |
| Szerkesztő | Leigh Hunt |
| Kiadó | J. Appleyard, 1820 |
| Eredeti forrása | a Michigani Egyetem |
| Digitalizálva: | 2006. júl. 14. |
| Idézet exportálása | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |