Leigh Hunt as Poet and Essayist: Being the Choicest Passages from His Works Selected and EdF. Warne and Company, 1889 - Počet stran: 528 |
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Strana x
... less excite- ment , his face becoming flushed as he wrote , and his whole nervous system visibly agitated . In startling contrast to this , he takes note , there , of the calming influence upon him of metrical composition , verse , as ...
... less excite- ment , his face becoming flushed as he wrote , and his whole nervous system visibly agitated . In startling contrast to this , he takes note , there , of the calming influence upon him of metrical composition , verse , as ...
Strana xi
... less than ferocious and malignant . It arose clearly from the completest misap- prehension , by his vilifiers , alike of his writings and of his character . His writings , both prose and verse , remain to this day intact - unaltered and ...
... less than ferocious and malignant . It arose clearly from the completest misap- prehension , by his vilifiers , alike of his writings and of his character . His writings , both prose and verse , remain to this day intact - unaltered and ...
Strana xii
... less emphatically pronounced Leigh Hunt to have been - " A man who in the midst of the sorest temptations main- tained his honesty unblemished by a single stain - who in all public and private transactions was the very soul of truth and ...
... less emphatically pronounced Leigh Hunt to have been - " A man who in the midst of the sorest temptations main- tained his honesty unblemished by a single stain - who in all public and private transactions was the very soul of truth and ...
Strana xxxii
... less than a fiasco , Leigh Hunt then com- mitted the one mistake of his life as an author , by publishing in 1828 his distressing and most regrettable work , entitled " Lord Byron and some of his Contemporaries . " It was written from ...
... less than a fiasco , Leigh Hunt then com- mitted the one mistake of his life as an author , by publishing in 1828 his distressing and most regrettable work , entitled " Lord Byron and some of his Contemporaries . " It was written from ...
Strana 17
... , and think Of all thy winning ways ; Yet almost wish , with sudden shrink , That I had less to praise . Thy sidelong pillowed meekness , Thy thanks to all that TO THORNTON HUNT , ÆTAT . SIX . 17 To Thornton Hunt, Etat Six.
... , and think Of all thy winning ways ; Yet almost wish , with sudden shrink , That I had less to praise . Thy sidelong pillowed meekness , Thy thanks to all that TO THORNTON HUNT , ÆTAT . SIX . 17 To Thornton Hunt, Etat Six.
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admiration agreeable Anacreon Andrew Marvell appeared beauty Ben Jonson better breath called Charles Lamb Chaucer cheek Christ's Hospital colours comes Dæmon dance delight dream Dryden earth eyes face fancy favourite feel fire fireside flowers genius gentle gentleman George Selwyn give grace green hand happy head heart heaven human Hunt's imagination Johnson kind king lady laugh legs Leigh Hunt light lived London Journal look Lord Lord Byron lover Madame de Sévigné melancholy mind morning nature never night o'er once one's Ovid pain perhaps person Petrarch Phorbas pleasant pleasure poem poet poetical poetry poor Pope Queen reader Robin Gray round seems sense Shakspeare sleep smile sort soul speak Spenser spirit stick Street sweet Tatler tears thee Theocritus thing thou thought turn verses walk window word write young
Oblíbené pasáže
Strana 88 - Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth, Or the bellman's drowsy charm, To bless the doors from nightly harm.
Strana 149 - 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. — Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
Strana 70 - ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold: Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, "What writest thou?" The vision raised its head, And, with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord.
Strana 112 - I behold like a Spanish great galleon, and an English man-of-war; Master Coleridge, like the former, was built far higher in learning, solid, but slow in his performances. CVL, with the English man-of-war, lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack about, and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his wit and invention.
Strana 104 - Tender-handed stroke a nettle, And it stings you for your pains ; Grasp it like a man of mettle, And it soft as silk remains.
Strana 190 - Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth and youth and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
Strana 52 - JENNY kissed me when we met, Jumping from the chair she sat in; Time, you thief, who love to get Sweets into your list, put that in! Say I'm weary, say I'm sad, Say that health and wealth have missed me, Say I'm growing old, but add, Jenny kissed me.
Strana 142 - And as a purling stream, thou son of Night, Pass by his troubled senses: sing his pain Like hollow murmuring wind, or silver rain. Into this prince, gently, oh gently slide; And kiss him into slumbers, like a bride.
Strana 112 - Many were the wit-combats betwixt him and Ben Jonson, which two I behold like a Spanish great galleon, and an English man-of-war ; Master Jonson (like the former) was built far higher in learning ; solid, but slow in his performances. Shakespeare...
Strana 378 - ... inward of thy hand, Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap, At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand! To be so tickled, they would change their state And situation with those dancing chips O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait, Making dead wood more blest than living lips. Since saucy jacks so happy are in this, Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.