Shakespeare's Funeral and Other Papers

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W. Blackwood, 1889 - English literature - 311 pages

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Page 115 - 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." Such was what the bard of Rydal did at his best; but, absorbed in the sense which
Page 135 - That which her slender waist confined Shall now my joyful temples bind : Xo monarch but would give his crown His arms might do what this has done." That Mr Palgrave finds a charm in bald and mawkish simplicity, there is evidence
Page 15 - N"o longer mourn for me when I am dead Than ye shall hear the surly sullen bell Give -warning to the world that I am fled." * How strange sound these words of his, with that bell for commentary! How his own phrases rise to the lips! Drayton. Ay, Walter, you shall find but few occasions in life, solemn or merry, regarding
Page 121 - in hallowed mould Thy corpse shall buried be: For thee a funeral bell shall ring, And all the congregation sing A Christian psalm for thee." Certainly the poor woman had done nothing to cause her to be denied decent burial; but what there is in this or any part of the dismal,
Page 137 - many fine lines and stanzas, decorating a very slender fabric. The drift of Porphyro's " stratagem," as explained to old Angela, is far from clear— " Which was, to lead him, in close secrecy, Even to Madeline's chamber, and there hide Him in a closet, of such privacy That he might see her beauty unespied, And win perhaps that night a peerless bride;
Page 138 - fell on her hands together prest, And on her silver cross soft amethyst, And on her hair a glory, like a saint: She seemed a splendid angel, newly drest, Save wings for heaven." Now, considering that the poet had given himself an unlimited range of colours to choose from, he has shown an extraordinary incapacity to make use of the opportunity. On her breast is thrown
Page 114 - Thus, all in vain exhorted and reproved, She perished; and as for a wilful crime, By the just gods whom no weak pity moved, Was doomed to wear out her appointed time, Apart from happy Ghosts that gather flowers Of blissful quiet 'mid unfading bowers.'
Page 24 - Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.
Page 125 - this queer personification with its balance. Afterwards Napoleon is exhorted, not too grammatically, to commit suicide without further delay:— " Unless, like he of Babylon, All sense is with thy sceptre gone, Life will not long confine That spirit poured so widely forth— So long obeyed—so little worth
Page 250 - Such a man leaves behind him a wider good than the loss of his personal presence can take away. "' The greatest gift the hero leaves his race, Is to have been a hero.' " I must be excused for quoting my own words, because they are my credo.

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