English Literature of Nineteenth Century: On the Plan of the Author's "Compendium of English Literature" and Supplementary to It. Designed for Colleges and Advanced Classes |
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Page 9
... Morning . A Summer Sabbath Walk .. The Poor Man's Funeral .. Louver HERBERT KNOWLES ...... ... 23 Lines written in the Churchyard of 27 Morning ....... The Humble Wish .... The Charms of Nature ..... Exach Chris 30 མ མ ཆ ལ ེ Richmond ...
... Morning . A Summer Sabbath Walk .. The Poor Man's Funeral .. Louver HERBERT KNOWLES ...... ... 23 Lines written in the Churchyard of 27 Morning ....... The Humble Wish .... The Charms of Nature ..... Exach Chris 30 མ མ ཆ ལ ེ Richmond ...
Page 13
... Morning Picture 476 433 The Children's Dance .... 476 Sonnet to Summer ....... 434 Meditations on Spring 477 Sonnet to Hope ....... 434 A Night at Sea ...... 477 To his Early Beloved .. 434 To the Memory of Grahame . 478 Lines on a Poor ...
... Morning Picture 476 433 The Children's Dance .... 476 Sonnet to Summer ....... 434 Meditations on Spring 477 Sonnet to Hope ....... 434 A Night at Sea ...... 477 To his Early Beloved .. 434 To the Memory of Grahame . 478 Lines on a Poor ...
Page 15
... Morning ...... 626 Evening ... 627 JOHN MOULTRIE . 671 The Dove on the Cross .. 627 My Brother's Grave . 671 The Flowers of the Field ... 628 Here's to Thee , my Scottish Lassie ....... 673 Brotherly Love ...... 629 EDWARD BULWER LYTTON ...
... Morning ...... 626 Evening ... 627 JOHN MOULTRIE . 671 The Dove on the Cross .. 627 My Brother's Grave . 671 The Flowers of the Field ... 628 Here's to Thee , my Scottish Lassie ....... 673 Brotherly Love ...... 629 EDWARD BULWER LYTTON ...
Page 32
... MORNING.2 But who the melodies of morn can tell ? The wild - brook babbling down the mountain side ; The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell ; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide The ...
... MORNING.2 But who the melodies of morn can tell ? The wild - brook babbling down the mountain side ; The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell ; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide The ...
Page 33
... morning gilds , And all that echoes to the song of even , All that the mountain's fostering bosom shields , And all the dread magnificence of Heaven , - Oh , how canst thou renounce , and hope to be forgiven ? 1 THE HERMIT . At the ...
... morning gilds , And all that echoes to the song of even , All that the mountain's fostering bosom shields , And all the dread magnificence of Heaven , - Oh , how canst thou renounce , and hope to be forgiven ? 1 THE HERMIT . At the ...
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admiration appeared beautiful Blackwood's Magazine bless born breath called character Charles Lamb child Christian church Coleridge critic dark death delight divine earth Edinburgh Review edition Encyclopædia Britannica England English Essays eyes fame fancy father feel flowers genius glory grace grave hand happy hath heart heaven Henry Kirke White History honor hope hour human labor lady light literary literature lived London look Lord Milton mind moral Moscow nature never night noble North British Review o'er passion pleasure poem poet poetical poetry poor praise prayer published racter rich Robert Pollok scene Shakspeare Sir Walter Scott smile song sorrow soul spirit stranger's heart style sublime sweet taste tears thee thine thing thou thought tion truth University of Edinburgh verse voice volumes wonder words writings young youth
Popular passages
Page 99 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him.
Page 143 - Brightest and best of the sons of the morning, Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid; Star of the East, the horizon adorning, Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid.
Page 123 - Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown. For the Angel of Death...
Page 430 - THE world is too much with us: late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not.
Page 541 - Nay, not so," Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, But cheerly still ; and said, " I pray thee, then, Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.
Page 127 - SHE walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies ; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes : Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
Page 124 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather'd then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell; But hush!
Page 82 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket...
Page 220 - Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge! Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? GOD! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, GOD!
Page 430 - MILTON ! thou should'st be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.