Temple Bar, Volume 61

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Ward and Lock, 1881 - English periodicals

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Page 490 - My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flew'd, so sanded ; and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew ; Crook-knee'd and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls ; Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, Each under each.
Page 495 - Rip's sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who was as much henpecked as his master ; for Dame Van Winkle regarded them as companions in idleness, and even looked upon Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause of his master's going so often astray.
Page 486 - The nappy reeks wi' mantling ream, An' sheds a heart-inspiring steam ; The luntin pipe, an' sneeshin mill, Are handed round wi' right guid will ; The cantie auld folks crackin crouse, The young anes ranting thro' the house,— My heart has been sae fain to see them, That I for joy hae barkit wi
Page 370 - It has always been my practice to cast a long paragraph in a single mould, to try it by my ear, to deposit it in my memory, but to suspend the action of the pen till I had given the, last polish to my work.
Page 469 - It is important, therefore, to hold fast to this: that poetry is at bottom a criticism of life ; that the greatness of a poet lies In his powerful and beautiful application of ideas to life, — to the question: How to live.
Page 485 - Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust, Degraded mass of animated dust! Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat, Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit ! By nature vile, ennobled but by name, Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame. Ye ! who perchance behold this simple urn, Pass on— it honours none you wish to mourn : To mark a friend's remains these stones arise ; I never knew but one, — and here he lies.
Page 239 - ELEGIAC STANZAS, SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE OF PEELE CASTLE, IN A STORM, PAINTED BY SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT. I WAS thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile ! Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee : I saw thee every day ; and all the while Thy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea. So pure the sky, so quiet was the air ! So like, so very like, was day to day ! Whene'er I looked, thy Image still was there ; It trembled, but it never passed away.
Page 474 - O Vanity of vanities ! How wayward the decrees of Fate are ; How very weak the very wise, How very small the very great are...
Page 234 - The Art which we profess has beauty for its object : this it is our business to discover and to express ; the beauty of which we are in quest is general and intellectual ; it is an idea that subsists only in the mind ; the sight never beheld it, nor has the hand expressed it : it is an idea residing in the breast of the artist, which he is always labouring to impart, and which he dies at last without imparting...
Page 1 - God be thanked, the meanest of his creatures Boasts two soul-sides, one to face the world with, One to show a woman when he loves her!

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