The Manchester Quarterly: A Journal of Literature and Art, Band 2Abel Heywood, 1883 |
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Abel Heywood artists Axon Barnard Castle Bayly beauty Bibliophile Bishop British Museum Brook called castle catalogue century Cheshire Chrystal church competitive commerce copy Cornwall Cost Cottonopolis Crown 8vo dated deeds edition England English F'cap 8vo feeling Forsyth Bros Freethought French friends genius Hall hand Harry Dacre Henry High Leigh hundred interest Ireland J. E. Cornish John Heywood Keats King King Arthur labour Lancashire land Latin Ledsham Legh literature living London look Lord love of art Lymme Ma'tie Manchester Manchester Ship Canal Marquis de Morante Mascy merry maidens mind moral nature never Penzance poem poet ponies possession Post 8vo Practice of Piety printed Reprinted rich rock Salford seal Song stone style talent things Thomas thought tion Tubbs volume Weekly William Wincham words writer
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 312 - I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me; and to me, High mountains are a feeling, but the hum Of human cities torture...
Seite 97 - But now I only hear Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, Retreating, to the breath Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world.
Seite 72 - Fair scenes for childhood's opening bloom, For sportive youth to stray in ; For manhood to enjoy his strength; And age to wear away in...
Seite 358 - I SING of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July flowers ; I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal cakes.
Seite 382 - Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control, These three alone lead life to sovereign power. Yet not for power, (power of herself Would come uncalled for,) but to live by law, Acting the law we live by without fear; And because right is right, to follow right Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence.
Seite 349 - So careful of the type?' but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone She cries, 'A thousand types are gone: I care for nothing, all shall go. Thou makest thine appeal to me: I bring to life, I bring to death: The spirit does but mean the breath: I know no more.
Seite 2 - This may be speaking too presumptuously and may deserve a punishment ; but no feeling man will be forward to inflict it ; he will leave me alone, with the conviction that there is not a fiercer hell than the failure in a great object.
Seite 4 - Yes, there must be a golden victory; There must be Gods thrown down, and trumpets blown Of triumph calm, and hymns of festival Upon the gold clouds metropolitan, Voices of soft proclaim, and silver stir 130 Of strings in hollow shells: and there shall be Beautiful things made new, for the surprise Of the sky-children; I will give command: Thea! Thea! Thea! where is Saturn?
Seite 383 - Gladness be with thee, Helper of our world ! I think this is the authentic sign and seal Of Godship, that it ever waxes glad, And more glad, until gladness blossoms, bursts Into a rage to suffer for mankind, And recommence at sorrow : drops like seed After the blossom, ultimate of all.
Seite 65 - But thou that didst appear so fair To fond imagination Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation...