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Page 74 - Here lies our Sovereign Lord the King, Whose word no man relies on ; Who never said a foolish thing, And never did a wise one.
Page 336 - WHAT awful perspective ! while from our sight With gradual stealth the lateral windows hide Their Portraitures, their stone-work glimmers, dyed In the soft chequerings of a sleepy light. Martyr, or King, or sainted Eremite, Whoe'er ye be, that thus, yourselves unseen, Imbue your prison-bars with solemn sheen, Shine on, until ye fade with coming Night ! — But, from the arms of silence — list! O list ! The music bursteth into second life ; The notes luxuriate, every stone is kissed By sound, or...
Page 95 - Lully to look like himself again in the world. I never see these impostors, but I long to strip them, to warm my ragged veterans in their spoils. To be strong-backed and neat-bound is the desideratum of a volume. Magnificence comes after.
Page 96 - But where a book is at once both good and rare, where the individual is almost the species, and when that perishes, We know not where is that Promethean torch That can its light relumine; such a book, for instance, as the Life of the Duke of Newcastle, by his Duchess: no casket is rich enough, no casing sufficiently durable, to honour and keep safe such a jewel.
Page 204 - I am now to address a free people : ages have passed away, and this is the first moment in which you could be distinguished by that appellation.
Page 97 - Shall I be thought fantastical, if I confess, that the names of some of our poets sound sweeter, and have a finer relish to the ear — to mine, at least — than that of Milton or of Shakespeare ? It may be, that the latter are more staled and rung upon in common discourse.
Page 320 - Tears and lamentations were seen almost in every house, especially in the first part of the visitation ; for towards the latter end men's hearts were hardened, and death was so always before their eyes, that they did not so much concern themselves for the loss of their friends, expecting that themselves should be summoned the next hour.
Page 96 - Shakspeare or a Milton (unless the first editions), it were mere foppery to trick out in gay apparel. The possession of them confers no distinction. The exterior of them (the things themselves being so common), strange to say, raises no sweet emotions, no tickling sense of property in the owner. Thomson's Seasons, again, looks best (I maintain it) a little torn and dog's-eared.
Page 336 - Look forth ! — that Stream behold, THAT STREAM upon whose bosom we have passed Floating at ease while nations have effaced Nations, and Death has gathered to his fold Long lines of mighty Kings...