Macmillan's Magazine, 53. kötet

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Macmillan and Company, 1886

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189. oldal - Archangel: but his face Deep scars of thunder had intrenched, and care Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows Of dauntless courage, and considerate* pride Waiting revenge.
12. oldal - I have of late— but wherefore I know not— lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
190. oldal - Sweet flower ! for by that name at last, When all my reveries are past, I call thee, and to that cleave fast, Sweet silent creature ! That breath'st with me in sun and air, Do thou, as thou art wont, repair My heart with gladness, and a share Of thy meek nature ! TO THE SAME FLOWER.
191. oldal - Is the night chilly and dark ? The night is chilly, but not dark. The thin gray cloud is spread on high, It covers but not hides the sky. The moon is behind, and at the full ; And yet she looks both small and dull. The night is chill, the cloud is gray : Tis a month before the month of May, And the Spring comes slowly up this way.
86. oldal - Will no one tell me what she sings? — Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things And battles long ago; Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of today Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?
400. oldal - Tho' world on world in myriad myriads roll Round us, each with different powers, And other forms of life than ours, What know we greater than the soul?
189. oldal - He, above the rest In shape and gesture proudly eminent, Stood like a tower. His form had yet not lost All her original brightness, nor appeared Less than archangel ruined, and the excess Of glory obscured ; as when the sun, new risen, Looks through the horizontal misty air Shorn of his beams, or from behind the moon, In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs.
149. oldal - There is neither speech nor language : but their voices are heard among them. Their sound is gone out into all lands : and their words into the ends of the world.
419. oldal - Jove's decree, In a bowl Care may not be ; In a bowl Care may not be. Fear ye not the waves that roll ? No : in charmed bowl we swim. What the charm that floats the bowl ? Water may not pass the brim. The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine. And our ballast is old wine ; And your ballast is old wine.
191. oldal - ... that of counting in each line the accents, not the syllables. Though the latter may vary from seven to twelve, yet in each line the accents will be found to be only four. Nevertheless this occasional variation in number of syllables is not introduced wantonly, or for the mere ends of convenience, but in correspondence with some transition, in the nature of the imagery or passion.

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