Literary Hours: Or, Sketches Critical and Narrative, Volume 2J. Burkitt, 1800 - English literature |
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Page 17
... lost , Warn'd Fingal's mighty son , from trembling chords Of untouch'd harp , self - sounding in the night . Perhaps th ' afflicted Genius of the lake That leaves the wat'ry grot , each night to mourn VOL . II . D The waste of time ...
... lost , Warn'd Fingal's mighty son , from trembling chords Of untouch'd harp , self - sounding in the night . Perhaps th ' afflicted Genius of the lake That leaves the wat'ry grot , each night to mourn VOL . II . D The waste of time ...
Page 19
... on the plains of Flan- ders , in one of which the gallant Sidney fell , re - entered his native village towards the end of August 1587. He had lost his father a few months before his departure for the continent , a loss.
... on the plains of Flan- ders , in one of which the gallant Sidney fell , re - entered his native village towards the end of August 1587. He had lost his father a few months before his departure for the continent , a loss.
Page 51
... you are all weary to death , ( While he is speaking , Switzer goes out unperceived , to fetch him some water . ) sun GRIMM . How glorious , how majestic , yonder setting MOOR . ( Lost in contemplation ) ' Tis thus NO . XXIV . 51 HOURS .
... you are all weary to death , ( While he is speaking , Switzer goes out unperceived , to fetch him some water . ) sun GRIMM . How glorious , how majestic , yonder setting MOOR . ( Lost in contemplation ) ' Tis thus NO . XXIV . 51 HOURS .
Page 52
... — rasman . Zounds ! what is the matter with him ? — Is he ill ? moor . There was a time , when I could not go to sleep , if I had forgotten my prayers ! - GRIMM . Have you lost your senses ? What ! 52 NO . XXIV . LITERARY.
... — rasman . Zounds ! what is the matter with him ? — Is he ill ? moor . There was a time , when I could not go to sleep , if I had forgotten my prayers ! - GRIMM . Have you lost your senses ? What ! 52 NO . XXIV . LITERARY.
Page 53
Or, Sketches Critical and Narrative Natham Drake. GRIMM . Have you lost your senses ? What ! yet a school - boy ! — ' Twere fit indeed such thoughts should vex you ! moor . ( Resting his head on Grimm's bosom ) Bro- ther ! Brother ...
Or, Sketches Critical and Narrative Natham Drake. GRIMM . Have you lost your senses ? What ! yet a school - boy ! — ' Twere fit indeed such thoughts should vex you ! moor . ( Resting his head on Grimm's bosom ) Bro- ther ! Brother ...
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admirable amatory amiable Anacreon ancient Aristophanes Arnold bard beauty blast blest bosom brother Callimachus Catullus celebrated character Cicero clouds Collins comedies composition critic Dar-thula dark death delight Demosthenes diction edition elegant Elegies Ennius epic Euripides excellence exclaimed exquisite eyes fancy father felicity Fingal genius ghost Gray Grecian harmony heart honour Horace imagery imitations justly light literature Livy Lucretius lyric poetry manner Mason melancholy merit mingled Miss Maria MOOR mournful Muse Nathos nature night NUMBER o'er observes Orations Ossian Ovid passages pathetic Petrarch pictoresque pieces Pindar poem poet poetic possess praise productions Propertius quæ Quintilian rapture Roman Sappho satire scene scenery sentiment Shakspeare sigh simplicity song Sophocles sorrow soul specimen spirit Stesichorus stranger style sublime superstition sweet Tacitus taste tears Temora tender thee thou Tibullus tion tomb Tragedies translation versification Virgil voice Warton whilst wild wind
Popular passages
Page 124 - REMOTE, unfriended, melancholy, slow, Or by the lazy Scheld or wandering Po ; Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor Against the houseless stranger shuts the door ; Or where Campania's plain forsaken lies, A weary waste expanding to the skies ; Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee ; Still to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain, And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.
Page 338 - Or let my lamp at midnight hour Be seen in some high lonely tower, Where I may oft out-watch the Bear With thrice-great Hermes, or unsphere The spirit of Plato, to unfold What worlds or what vast regions hold The immortal mind that hath forsook Her mansion in this fleshly nook...
Page 298 - Sovereign of the willing soul, Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs, Enchanting shell! the sullen Cares, And frantic Passions, hear thy soft control.
Page 3 - I, clapping my hands cheerily together, that was I in a desert, I would find out wherewith in it to call forth my affections : — if I could not do better, I would fasten them upon some sweet myrtle, or seek some melancholy cypress to connect myself to; — I would court their shade, and greet them kindly for their protection ; — I would cut my name upon them, and swear they were the loveliest trees throughout the desert; — if their leaves withered, I would teach myself to mourn: — and when...
Page 458 - Or gazed in merry clusters by your side ? Ye who can smile — to wisdom no disgrace — At the arch meaning of a kitten's face ; If spotless innocence, and infant mirth, Excites to praise, or gives reflection birth ; In shades like these pursue your favorite joy, Midst Nature's revels, sports that never cloy.
Page 253 - Along the woods, along the moorish fens, Sighs the sad genius of the coming storm ; And up among the loose disjointed cliffs, And fractur'd mountains wild, the brawling brook And cave, presageful, send a hollow moan, Resounding long in listening Fancy's ear.
Page 71 - Inspire my dreams, and my wild wanderings guide ; Your voice each rugged path of life can smooth, For well I know, wherever ye reside, There harmony, and peace, and innocence abide.
Page 229 - I sit by the mossy fountain; on the top of the hill of winds. One tree is rustling above me. Dark waves roll over the heath. The lake is troubled below. The deer descend from the hill. No hunter at a distance is seen. It is mid-day: but all is silent.
Page 242 - There oft is heard, at midnight, or at noon, Beginning faint, but rising still more loud, And nearer, voice of hunters, and of hounds, And horns, hoarse winded, blowing far and keen: — Forthwith the hubbub multiplies; the gale Labours with wilder shrieks, and rifer din Of hot pursuit; the broken cry of deer Mangled by throttling dogs; the shouts of men, And hoofs, thick beating on the hollow hill.
Page 243 - Or thither, where beneath the show'ry west The mighty kings of three fair realms are laid : Once foes, perhaps, together now they rest...