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 113 - As for the grass, it grew as scant as hair In leprosy; thin dry blades pricked the mud Which underneath looked kneaded up with blood.
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 - How such a one was strong, and such was bold, And such was fortunate, yet, each of old Lost, lost! one moment knelled the woe of years.
Seite 116 - Which, while I forded, — good saints, how I feared To set my foot upon a dead man's cheek, Each step, or feel the spear I thrust to seek For hollows, tangled in his hair or beard ! — It may have been a water-rat I speared, But, ugh ! it sounded like a baby's shriek.
Seite 117 - For, looking up, aware I somehow grew, 'Spite of the dusk, the plain had given place All round to mountains — with such name to grace Mere ugly heights and heaps now stolen in view. How thus they had surprised me, — solve it, you ! How to get from them was no clearer case.
Seite 70 - Where slaves once more their native land behold, No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold. To Be, contents his natural desire, He asks no Angel's wing, no Seraph's fire; But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, His faithful dog shall bear him company.
Seite 17 - Hold, hold, my heart; And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, But bear me stiffly up.
Seite 116 - I shut my eyes and turned them on my heart. As a man calls for wine before he fights, I asked one draught of earlier, happier sights, Ere fitly I could hope to play my part. Think first, fight afterwards the soldier's art: One taste of the old time sets all to rights.
Seite 63 - Critics on verse, as squibs on triumphs wait, Proclaim the glory, and augment the state : Hot, envious, noisy, proud, the scribbling fry Burn, hiss, and bounce, waste paper, stink, and die.

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