Letters

Első borító
Baldwin and Cradock, 1836

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162. oldal - The learning, the good sense, the sound judgment and wit displayed in it, fully justify not only my compliment, but all compliments that either have been already paid to her talents, or shall be paid hereafter.
301. oldal - Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge, Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe. Ah; who hath reft (quoth he) my dearest pledge?
49. oldal - Oh! while along the stream of Time thy name Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame, Say, shall my little bark attendant sail, Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale?
347. oldal - I did not write the line, that has been tampered with, hastily, or without due attention to the construction of it, and what appeared to me its only merit, is, in its present state, entirely annihilated.
171. oldal - How many are the days of the years of thy life? And Jacob said unto Pharaoh, The days of the years of my pilgrimage are an hundred and thirty years : few and evil have been the days of the years of my life...
11. oldal - In short, it is not his least praise that he is never guilty of those faults as a writer, which he lays to the charge of others. A proof that he did not judge by a borrowed standard, or from rules laid down by critics, but that he was qualified to do it by his own native powers, and his great superiority of genius. For he that 'wrote so much, and so fast, would through...
291. oldal - That one was addressed to a lady whom I expect in a few minutes to come down to breakfast, and who has supplied to me the place of my own mother — my own invaluable mother, these six-and-twenty years.
50. oldal - The Lodge, Jan. 8, 1787. I HAVE had a little nervous fever lately, my dear, that has somewhat abridged my sleep ; and though I find myself better to-day than I have been since it seized me, yet I feel my head lightish, and not in the best order for writing.
291. oldal - I have not seen these thirty years, a picture of my own mother. She died when I wanted two days of being six years old ; yet I remember her perfectly, find the picture a strong likeness of her, and because her memory has been ever precious to me, have written a poem on the receipt of it : a poem which, one excepted, I had more pleasure in writing than any that I ever wrote. That one was addressed to a lady...
13. oldal - I do not wonder at the" judgement that you form of Fuseli, a foreigner ; but you may assure yourself that, foreigner as he is, he has an exquisite taste in English verse. The man is all fire, and an enthusiast in the highest degree on the subject of Homer, and has given me more than ouce a jog, when I have been inclined to nap with my author.

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