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Addresses admired appeared asked beautiful became Burke called Captain celebrated close cloth Coleridge composer conversation copy criticism death died dinner Doctor Duke Edinburgh edition England fact father fortune four France French garden gave genius George give hand head Hill History hope hour Illustrated imagination James John Johnson Junius lady letters lines literary lived London look Lord Lord Byron Magazine memory mind morning nature never night once original party passed person play poems poet poetry popular present printed published reason received relates remains remarkable replied Review says seems Smith song spirit story taken tell thing thought tion told took turned volumes whole writing written wrote young
Seite 120 - Though my perishing ranks should be strewed in their gore, Like ocean-weeds heaped on the surf-beaten shore, Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains, While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe ! And leaving in battle no blot on his name, Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame.
Seite 116 - The preacher then launched into his subject like an eagle dallying with the wind. The sermon was upon peace and war ; upon church and state — not their alliance but their separation — on the spirit of the world and the spirit of Christianity, not as the same, but as opposed to one another. He talked of those who had " inscribed the cross of Christ on banners dripping with human gore.
Seite 126 - When Love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates. And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates; When I lie tangled in her hair And fetter'd to her eye. The birds that wanton in the air Know no such liberty.
Seite 122 - Ward has no heart, they say; but I deny it. He has a heart, and gets his speeches by it.
Seite 137 - What things have we seen Done at the ' Mermaid ? ' Heard words that have been So nimble, and so full of subtle flame, As if that every one from whence they came Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life.
Seite 115 - As he gave out this text, his voice " rose like a steam of rich distilled perfumes," and when he came to the two last words, which he pronounced loud, deep, and distinct, it seemed to me, who was then young, as if the sounds had echoed from the bottom of the human heart, and as if that prayer might have floated in solemn silence through the universe. The idea of St. John came into mind, " of one crying in the wilderness, who had his loins girt about, and whose food was locusts and wild honey.
Seite 95 - Gibbon tapping his snuff-box and Sir Joshua with his trumpet in his ear. In the foreground is that strange figure which is as familiar to us as the figures of those among whom we have been brought up, the gigantic body, the huge massy face, seamed with the scars of disease, the brown coat, the black worsted stockings, the grey wig with the scorched foretop, the dirty hands, the nails bitten and pared to the quick.
Seite 116 - Such were the notes our once-loved poet sung;' and, for myself, I could not have been more delighted if I had heard the music of the spheres. Poetry and philosophy had met together. Truth and genius had embraced under the eye and with the sanction of religion.. This was even beyond my hopes. I returned home well satisfied.
Seite 94 - As we close it the club-room is before us, and the table on which stands the omelet for Nugent, and the lemons for Johnson. There are assembled those heads which live for ever on the canvas of Reynolds. There are the spectacles of Burke and the tall thin form of...