The Cambridge History of English Literature: The nineteenth century. I

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Sir Adolphus William Ward, Alfred Rayney Waller
The University Press, 1915 - English literature
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Page 341 - The Missing Fragment of the Latin Translation of the Fourth Book of Ezra, discovered, and edited with an Introduction and Notes, and a facsimile of the MS., by ROBERT L.
Page 116 - My own dim life should teach me this, That life shall live for evermore, Else earth is darkness at the core, And dust and ashes all that is ; This round of green, this orb of flame, Fantastic beauty ; such as lurks In some wild Poet, when he works Without a conscience or an aim.
Page 237 - The work is rather too light, and bright, and sparkling; it wants shade; it wants to be stretched out here and there with a long Chapter of sense, if it could be had; if not, of solemn specious nonsense, about something unconnected with the Story; an Essay on Writing, a critique on Walter Scott, or the history of Buonaparte, or anything that would form a contrast, and bring the reader with increased delight to the playfulness and Epigrammatism of the general style.
Page 45 - The Giaour, the Bride of Abydos, the Corsair, Lara, the Siege of Corinth...
Page 105 - Having quitted the Borders, to seek new renown, Is coming, by long Quarto stages to Town : And beginning with ROKEBY (the job's sure to pay.) Means to do all the Gentlemen's Seats on the way. Now, the Scheme is (though none of our Hackneys can beat him) To start a fresh Poet through Highgate to meet him ; ' , Who, by means of quick proofs— no revises— long coaches — May do a few Villas, before Sc — TT approaches.
Page 29 - The disk of the sun became almost totally obscured ere he had altogether sunk below the horizon, and an early and lurid shade of darkness blotted the serene twilight of a summer evening.
Page 175 - I hate to see a load of bandboxes go along the street, and I hate to see a parcel of big words without anything in them.
Page 203 - When I heard of the death of Coleridge, it was without grief. It seemed to me that he long had been on the confines of the next world, — that he had a hunger for eternity. I grieved then that I could not grieve. But since, I feel how great a part he was of me. His great and dear spirit haunts me. I cannot think a thought, I cannot make a criticism on men or books, without an ineffectual turning and reference to him. He was the proof and touchstone of all my cogitations.
Page 2 - No funeral hearse crept more leisurely than did his landau up the Canongate or the Cowgate ; and not a queer tottering gable but recalled to him some long-buried memory of splendour or bloodshed, which, by a few words, he set before the hearer in the reality of life.

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