Obiter Dicta: Second Series, 1. kötetC. Scribner's Sons, 1891 - 291 oldal |
Részletek a könyvből
1 - 5 találat összesen 13 találatból.
20. oldal
... sort of Church are we to have ? ' The fierce controversy raged , and its fair enticing fruit , ' spread round with liberal hand , ' proved too much for the father of English epic . ' He scrupled not to eat Against his better knowledge ...
... sort of Church are we to have ? ' The fierce controversy raged , and its fair enticing fruit , ' spread round with liberal hand , ' proved too much for the father of English epic . ' He scrupled not to eat Against his better knowledge ...
52. oldal
... books , whose education , however , would not begin till the twentieth century . As a parent was overheard to observe , ' an illus- tration of that sort comes home to one . ' The older we grow the less confident we become ,
... books , whose education , however , would not begin till the twentieth century . As a parent was overheard to observe , ' an illus- tration of that sort comes home to one . ' The older we grow the less confident we become ,
56. oldal
... sort . But the battle is over , at all events for the present . It is not now our humour to inquire too curiously about first causes or primal elements . As we are not prepared with a definition of poetry , we feel how impossible it ...
... sort . But the battle is over , at all events for the present . It is not now our humour to inquire too curiously about first causes or primal elements . As we are not prepared with a definition of poetry , we feel how impossible it ...
78. oldal
... sort of night it was on any particular day in February twenty - two years before . It is ever dangerous to tamper with writ- ten documents which have been out of your sole and exclusive possession even for a few minutes . A letter Pope ...
... sort of night it was on any particular day in February twenty - two years before . It is ever dangerous to tamper with writ- ten documents which have been out of your sole and exclusive possession even for a few minutes . A letter Pope ...
82. oldal
... sort of little epigram I more especially delight in , after the manner of rondeaus , which begin and end all in the same words , namely – " Received " and " A. Pope . " These epi- grams end smartly , and each of them are tagged with two ...
... sort of little epigram I more especially delight in , after the manner of rondeaus , which begin and end all in the same words , namely – " Received " and " A. Pope . " These epi- grams end smartly , and each of them are tagged with two ...
Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
Ainger Aldersgate Street amongst ancient AUGUSTINE BIRRELL Ben Jonson bookseller Boswell Burke's called Cambridge Carlyle celebrated century certainly character Charles Lamb CONTENTS critic Curll death delight doubt Dunciad edition Edmund Burke Emerson English essay fact fame fancy father French Revolution friends Garrick genius George Eliot happy Hazlitt heart historian House human humour Iliad interest John John Milton Johnson king knew Lamb's letters literary literature lived Lord Lord Bolingbroke Lycidas Milton mind never Newman noble novel OBITER DICTA once opinion Oxford pamphlet Paradise Lost passion perhaps person philosophy pleasant pleasure poem poet poet's poetry political poor Pope Pope's quarrels question reader scholar Shakspeare spirit story Street style surely tell things thought tion Tory volumes W. E. HENLEY Whig whilst word write written wrote young youth
Népszerű szakaszok
106. oldal - Love had he found in huts where poor Men lie : His daily Teachers had been Woods and Rills, The silence that is in the starry sky, The sleep that is among the lonely hills.
50. oldal - Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine: But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me...
255. oldal - I've been tossed like the driven foam; But now, proud world ! I'm going home. Good-bye to Flattery's fawning face; To Grandeur with his wise grimace; To upstart Wealth's averted eye; To supple Office, low and high ; To crowded halls, to court and street ; To frozen hearts and hasting feet ; To those who go, and those who come ; Good-bye, proud world ! I'm going home.
123. oldal - James, whose skill in physic will be long remembered ; and with David Garrick, whom I hoped to have gratified with this character of our common friend. But what are the hopes of man ? I am disappointed by that stroke of death which has eclipsed the gaiety of nations, and impoverished the public stock of harmless pleasure.
253. oldal - For Nature beats in perfect tune, And rounds with rhyme her every rune, Whether she work in land or sea, Or hide underground her alchemy. Thou canst not wave thy staff in air, Or dip thy paddle in the lake, But it carves the bow of beauty there, And the ripples in rhymes the oar forsake.
13. oldal - With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light. There let the pealing organ blow, To the full-voiced quire below, In service high and anthems clear, As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.
101. oldal - Yes, I am proud; I must be proud to see Men not afraid of God afraid of me: Safe from the Bar, the Pulpit, and the Throne, Yet touched and shamed by ridicule alone.
132. oldal - Wealth, my lad, was made to wander, Let it wander as it will ; Call the jockey, call the pander, Bid them come and take their fill. When the bonny blade carouses, Pockets full, and spirits high — What are acres ? what are houses ? Only dirt, or wet or dry. Should the guardian friend or mother Tell the woes of wilful waste : Scorn their counsel, scorn their pother, — You can hang or drown at last.
97. oldal - Woe is me, my mother, that thou hast borne me a man of strife and a man of contention to the whole earth ! I have neither lent on usury, nor men have lent to me on usury; yet every one of them doth curse me.
9. oldal - HOW soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, Stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year! My hasting days fly on with full career, But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th.