Literary Leaves, àÅèÁ·Õè 1Thacker & Company, 1840 |
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... critics have been pleased to speak of my productions , and the many flatter- ing and most valuable letters that I have received from my native country from authors of unquestionable genius and high celebrity , and to most of whom I am ...
... critics have been pleased to speak of my productions , and the many flatter- ing and most valuable letters that I have received from my native country from authors of unquestionable genius and high celebrity , and to most of whom I am ...
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... criticism can destroy his repose , and that the neglect or ridicule even of the vulgar crowd is not always to be borne with a magnanimous indifference . Literary pursuits and literary distinctions are often fatal to domestic pleasures ...
... criticism can destroy his repose , and that the neglect or ridicule even of the vulgar crowd is not always to be borne with a magnanimous indifference . Literary pursuits and literary distinctions are often fatal to domestic pleasures ...
˹éÒ 7
... criticism , however false or ignorant , often leaves an immedicable wound in the breast of genius . The tender and ima- ginative Keats was crushed by the rude hand of Gifford , and perished like a flower in a foreign land . The unhappy ...
... criticism , however false or ignorant , often leaves an immedicable wound in the breast of genius . The tender and ima- ginative Keats was crushed by the rude hand of Gifford , and perished like a flower in a foreign land . The unhappy ...
˹éÒ 49
... critics , on the con- trary , have urged the necessity of assiduous care . It is remarka- ble that some of our most voluminous writers have confessed the great toil and attention which they bestowed upon their works . Cowper , a ...
... critics , on the con- trary , have urged the necessity of assiduous care . It is remarka- ble that some of our most voluminous writers have confessed the great toil and attention which they bestowed upon their works . Cowper , a ...
˹éÒ 54
... criticism , than are many of our periodical reviewers * . They pronounce him only a great poet who has pro- duced a bulky volume , and reverse the old saying that a great book is a great evil . It is the small volume of modest and ...
... criticism , than are many of our periodical reviewers * . They pronounce him only a great poet who has pro- duced a bulky volume , and reverse the old saying that a great book is a great evil . It is the small volume of modest and ...
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admiration amongst Anna Seward Atossa beauty Bolingbroke breast breath bright calm Chalkhill character Charlotte Smith charm cheerful Clearchus clouds conversation critics D'Israeli dear death delightful dreams Dryden Duchess of Marlborough E'en effect egotism egotist Essay Essay on Criticism external face fair fame fancy feeling friendship genius gleam glorious glory happy harmony hath heart hope Horace Walpole human intellectual John Chalkhill Johnson labour Leigh Hunt less light lines literary look Lord Bolingbroke Lord Byron Marchmont memory Milton mind Montaigne nature never o'er observed once passage passion perhaps persons Petrarch physiognomy pleasure poem poet poet's poetical poetry Pope Pope's praise prose reader remarks says scene seems Shakspeare silent smile sonnet soul sound speak spirit stanza style sweet talk taste tender thine thing thou thought tion truth verse voice Warton weary words writers
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˹éÒ 280 - Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
˹éÒ 129 - Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be, In every work regard the writer's end, Since none can compass more than they intend; And if the means be just, the conduct true, Applause, in spite of trivial faults, is due.
˹éÒ 332 - Phoebus lifts his golden fire: The birds in vain their amorous descant join, Or cheerful fields resume their green attire. These ears, alas! for other notes repine; A different object do these eyes require; My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine; And in my breast the imperfect joys expire; Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer, And new-born pleasure brings to happier men; The fields to all their wonted tribute bear; To warm their little loves the birds complain. I fruitless mourn to him that...
˹éÒ 99 - With many a weary step, and many a groan, Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone; The huge round stone, resulting with a bound, Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground.
˹éÒ 91 - Tis not enough no harshness gives offence, The sound must seem an echo to the sense. Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar...
˹éÒ 97 - Less than a god they thought there could not dwell Within the hollow of that shell That spoke so sweetly and so well. What passion cannot Music raise and quell!
˹éÒ 202 - CYRIACK, this three years' day these eyes, though clear, To outward view, of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot ; Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman.
˹éÒ 203 - I trust hereby to make it manifest with what small willingness I endure to interrupt the pursuit of no less hopes than these, and leave a calm and pleasing solitariness, fed with cheerful and confident thoughts, to embark in a troubled sea of noises and hoarse disputes, put from beholding the bright countenance of truth in the quiet and still air of delightful studies...
˹éÒ 93 - Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.
˹éÒ 97 - Now strike the golden lyre again: A louder yet, and yet a louder strain ! Break his bands of sleep asunder And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark, hark ! the horrid sound Has raised up his head : As awaked from the dead, And amazed he stares around. Revenge, revenge...