The Anglo-Saxon Review, Volume 6

Front Cover
The covers are reproductions of rare bookbindings. Each vol. has "Note on the binding ... By Cyril Davenport."

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Page 243 - Last night, among his fellow roughs, He jested, quaffed, and swore; A drunken private of the Buffs, Who never looked before. To-day, beneath the foeman's frown, He stands in Elgin's place, Ambassador from Britain's crown, And type of all her race. Poor, reckless, rude, low-born, untaught, Bewildered, and alone, A heart, with English instinct fraught, He yet can call his own. Ay, tear his body limb from limb, Bring cord, or axe, or flame: He only knows, that not through him Shall England come to shame.
Page 38 - HUNG be the heavens with black , yield day to night! Comets, importing change of times and states, Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky ; And with them scourge the bad revolting stars, That have consented unto Henry's death ! Henry the fifth, too famous to live long ! England ne'er lost a king of so much worth.
Page 243 - Milton ! thou shouldst 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.
Page 127 - He has not only no temperance, no modesty, no feeling for the just boundaries of art (and in these respects an admirable genius may err), but he has no sense of beauty, and to want this is to want the sense of the creative power of mind. What is terror without a contrast with, and a connexion with, loveliness ? How well Dante understood this secret — Dante, with whom this artist has been so presumptuously compared ! What a thing his " Moses " is ; how distorted from all that is natural and majestic,...
Page 197 - Life is a Jest, and all Things show it; I thought so once, but now I know it.
Page 194 - Be to her virtues very kind ; Be to her faults a little blind ; Let all her ways be unconfin'd ; And clap your padlock — on her mind.
Page 129 - ON THE MEDUSA OF LEONARDO DA VINCI IN THE FLORENTINE GALLERY I IT lieth, gazing on the midnight sky, Upon the cloudy mountain peak supine ; Below, far lands are seen tremblingly ; Its horror and its beauty are divine. Upon its lips and eyelids seems to lie Loveliness like a shadow, from which shine, Fiery and lurid, struggling underneath. The agonies of anguish and of death.
Page 37 - Then scarcely allowing me time to say a word, he added : " There is still another thing you keep back: it is that a change of reign and the death of a prince are announced by this sign.
Page 128 - The effect of it, piercing the solid blue with those groups of dazzling spires, relieved by the serene depth of this Italian heaven, or by moonlight when the stars seem gathered among those clustered shapes, is beyond anything I had imagined architecture capable of producing.
Page 120 - Or, turning to the Vatican, go see Laocoon's torture dignifying pain — A father's love and mortal's agony With an immortal's patience blending : — vain The struggle ; vain, against the coiling strain And gripe, and deepening of the dragon's grasp, The old man's clench ; the long envenom'd chain Rivets the living links, — the enormous asp Enforces pang on pang, and stifles gasp on gasp.

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