Essays by Divers Hands: Being the Transactions of the Royal Society of Literature, Band 8


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Seite 82 - The moon shines bright : — In such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, And they did make no noise ; in such a night, Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls, And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents, Where Cressid lay that night.
Seite 115 - While some discuss if near the other graves Be room enough for this, and when a day Suits best for carrying the corpse away, With care about the banners, scarves and staves: And still the man hears all, and only craves He may not shame such tender love and stay.
Seite 118 - There they stood, ranged along the hill-sides — met To view the last of me, a living frame For one more picture ! In a sheet of flame I saw them, and I knew them all. And yet Dauntless the slug-horn to my lips I set, And blew, ' Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came.
Seite 82 - Magic is just the word for it — the magic of nature ; not merely the beauty of nature — that the Greeks and Latins had ; not merely an honest smack of the soil, a faithful realism — that the Germans had ; but the intimate life of nature, her weird power, and her fairy charm. As the Saxon names of places, with the pleasant wholesome smack of the soil in them — Weathersfield, Thaxted, Shalford — are to the Celtic names of places, with their penetrating, lofty beauty— Velindra, Tyntagel,...
Seite 114 - If at his counsel I should turn aside Into that ominous tract which, all agree, Hides the Dark Tower. Yet acquiescingly I did turn as he pointed: neither pride Nor hope rekindling at the end descried, So much as gladness that some end might be. For, what with my whole world-wide wandering, What with my search drawn out thro...
Seite 115 - Had been a dreary one at best, and dim Was settling to its close, yet shot one grim Red leer to see the plain catch its estray.
Seite 7 - A poet in our times is a semi-barbarian in a civilized community. He lives in the days that are past. His ideas, thoughts, feelings, associations, are all with barbarous manners, obsolete customs, and exploded superstitions. The march of his intellect is like that of a crab, backward.
Seite 83 - So they took the blossoms of the oak, and the blossoms of the broom, and the blossoms of the meadow-sweet, and produced from them a maiden, the fairest and most graceful that man ever saw. And they baptized her, and gave her the name of Flower-Aspect.
Seite 69 - The lovely young Lavinia once had friends; And Fortune smiled, deceitful, on her birth. For, in her helpless years...
Seite 2 - If Art was Progressive We should have had Mich. Angelos & Rafaels to Succeed & to Improve upon each other. But it is not so. Genius dies with its Possessor & comes not again till Another is Born with It.

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