Essays and Sketches of Edmund J. ArmstrongLongmans, Green, 1877 - 306 Seiten |
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Essays and Sketches of Edmund J. Armstrong George Francis Savage-Armstrong,Edmund John Armstrong Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2023 |
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
acquaintance admire Æneid Alastor ARMSTRONG artistic beautiful Byron character Charles Lamb Childe Harold Coleridge Coleridge's colouring criticism dark death deep Doctor Faustus doctrine drama dream Edgar Allan Poe Edgar Poe eloquence England essay essayist exquisite eyes fact Faust Fcap feeling FRANCIS ARMSTRONG genius gloom Goethe Harriet Hazlitt heart human ideal imagination infinite intellectual labour lady language light literary literature look Lord Lord Macaulay lyrical magnificent melancholy ment Mephistopheles metaphysical Milton mind moral nature never noble object passages passion Pedlar philosopher Poe's poems poet poetic poetry principles Quincey racter reader Revolt of Islam Satan says scene sentimental Shelley Shelley's society solemn Solitary sorrow soul spirit story struggle style sublime suffering sympathy things Thomas De Quincey thou thought thrilling tion touch true truth universe utterance verse Wanderer weird wild words Wordsworth writings written youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 227 - I had so worked upon my imagination as really to believe that about the whole mansion and domain there hung an atmosphere peculiar to themselves and their immediate vicinity, an atmosphere which had no affinity with the air of heaven, but which had reeked up from the decayed trees, and the gray wall, and the silent tarn, a pestilent and mystic vapor, dull, sluggish, faintly discernible, and leaden-hued.
Seite 124 - A SLUMBER did my spirit seal ; •^*- I had no human fears : She seemed a thing that could not feel The touch of earthly years. No motion has she now, no force ; She neither hears nor sees ; Rolled round in earth's diurnal course, With rocks, and stones, and trees.
Seite 218 - All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream. I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand — How few ! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep — while I weep ! O God ! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp ? O God ! can I not save] One from the pitiless wave ? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream ? DREAMLAND.
Seite 75 - own exceeding great reward;' it has soothed my afflictions; it has multiplied and refined my enjoyments ; it has endeared solitude ; and it has given me the habit of wishing to discover the good and the beautiful in all that meets and surrounds me.
Seite 223 - My love, she sleeps! Oh, may her sleep, As it is lasting, so be deep!
Seite 63 - He prayeth well, who loveth well Both man and bird and beast. He prayeth best, who loveth best All things both great and small; For the dear God who loveth us, He made and loveth all.
Seite 70 - But the sense of musical delight, with the power of producing it, is a gift of imagination ; and this together with the power of reducing multitude into unity of effect, and modifying a series of thoughts by some one predominant thought or feeling, may be cultivated and improved, but can never be learned. It is in these that
Seite 53 - ... would suit him best, but continually shifted, in corkscrew fashion, and kept trying both. A heavy-laden, high-aspiring and surely much-suffering man. His voice, naturally soft and good, had contracted itself into a plaintive snuffle and sing-song; he spoke as if preaching, — you would have said, preaching earnestly and also hopelessly the weightiest things. I still recollect his "object
Seite 69 - ... rhythm than was demanded by the thoughts, or permitted by the propriety of preserving a sense of melody predominant. The delight in richness and sweetness of sound, even to a faulty excess, if it be evidently original, and not the result of an easily imitable mechanism, I regard as a highly favourable promise in the compositions of a young man. "The man that hath not music in his soul" can indeed never be a genuine poet.
Seite 211 - O, lady bright! can it be right — This window open to the night? The wanton airs, from the tree-top, Laughingly through the lattice drop — The bodiless airs, a wizard rout, Flit through thy chamber in and out, And wave the curtain canopy So fitfully — so fearfully — Above the closed and fringed lid...