The Modern Language Review, Volume 2

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Modern Humanities Research Association, 1907 - Languages, Modern
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Page 122 - THAT time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west; Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire, That on the ashes of his youth doth lie...
Page 328 - So word by word, and line by line, The dead man touch'd me from the past, And all at once it seem'd at last The living soul was flash'd on mine, And mine in this was wound, and whirl'd About empyreal heights of thought, And came on that which is, and caught The deep pulsations of the world, Ionian music measuring out The steps of Time - the shocks of Chance The blows of Death. At length my trance Was cancell'd, stricken thro
Page 328 - How pure at heart and sound in head, With what divine affections bold Should be the man whose thought would hold An hour's communion with the dead. In vain shalt thou, or any, call The spirits from their golden day, Except, like them, thou too canst say, My spirit is at peace with all.
Page 328 - Till now the doubtful dusk reveal'd The knolls once more where, couch'd at ease, The white kine glimmer'd, and the trees Laid their dark arms about the field : And suck'd from out the distant gloom A breeze began to tremble o'er The large leaves of the sycamore, And fluctuate all the still perfume, And gathering freshlier overhead, Rock'd the full-foliaged elms, and swung The heavy-folded rose, and flung The lilies to and fro, and said
Page 253 - THE LITTLE FLOWERS OF THE GLORIOUS MESSER ST. FRANCIS AND OF HIS FRIARS. Done into English by W. Heywood. With an Introduction by AG Ferrers Howell. MANCHESTER AL MONDO : a Contemplation of Death and Immortality. By Henry Montagu Earl of Manchester. With an Introduction by Elizabeth Waterhouse. Editor of (A Little Book of Life and Death.
Page 263 - To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscovered country from whose bourne No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of...
Page 232 - When Scythrop grew up, he was sent, as usual, to a public school, where a little learning was painfully beaten into him, and from thence to the university, where it was carefully taken out of him ; and he was sent home like a well-threshed ear of corn, with nothing in his head...
Page 159 - And lay such baits as might entangle death. In such a breast what heart would not be thrall ? From such sweet arms who would not wish embraces ? At thy fair hands who wonders not at all, Wonder itself through ignorance embases ? Yet natheless though wondrous gifts you call these, My faith is far more wonderful than all these.
Page 232 - ... like a shuttlecock between two battledores, changing its direction as rapidly as the oscillations of a pendulum, receiving many a hard knock on the cork of a sensitive heart, and flying from point to point on the feathers of a super-sublimated head.
Page 304 - This neglect then of rime so little is to be taken for a defect, though it may seem so perhaps to vulgar readers, that it rather is to be esteemed an example set, the first in English, of ancient liberty recovered to heroic poem from the troublesome and modern bondage of riming.

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