A COMPLETE MAN OF ENGLISH LITERATURE.

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Page 529 - Father, Thy hand Hath reared these venerable columns. Thou Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down Upon the naked earth, and forthwith rose All these fair ranks of trees. They in Thy sun Budded, and shook their green leaves in Thy breeze, And shot towards heaven. The centuryliving crow, Whose birth was in their tops, grew old and died Among their branches, till at last they stood, As now they stand, massy and tall and dark, Fit shrine for humble worshipper to hold Communion with his Maker.
Page 203 - On the other side, Satan, alarmed, Collecting all his might, dilated stood, Like Teneriff or Atlas, unremoved : His stature reached the sky, and on his crest Sat Horror plumed ; nor wanted in his grasp What seemed both spear and shield.
Page 212 - ... sometimes it is couched in a bold scheme of speech, in a tart irony, in a lusty hyperbole, in a startling metaphor, in a plausible reconciling of contradictions, or in acute nonsense ; sometimes...
Page 464 - His work is eminently judicial. Its whole spirit is that of the bench, not that of the bar. He sums up with a calm, steady impartiality, turning neither to the right nor to the left, glossing over nothing, exaggerating nothing, while the advocates on both sides are alternately biting their lips to hear their conflicting misstatements and sophisms exposed. On a general survey, we do not scruple to pronounce the Constitutional History the most impartial book that we ever read.
Page 454 - ... by night in places of interment. Some stalked slowly on, absorbed in profound reverie ; some, shrieking with agony, ran furiously about like tigers wounded with poisoned arrows ; whilst others, grinding their teeth in rage, foamed along more frantic than the wildest maniac. They all avoided each other; and, though surrounded by a multitude that no one could number, each wandered at random unheedful of the rest, as if alone on a desert where no foot had trodden.
Page 288 - steerer of the realm," to Miss Pulteney in the nursery. The numbers are smooth and sprightly, and the diction is seldom faulty. They are not loaded with much thought, yet, if they had been written by Addison, they would have had admirers; little things are not valued but when they are done by those who can do greater.
Page 52 - Women," long ago Sung by the morning star of song, who made His music heard below ; Dan Chaucer, the first warbler, whose sweet breath Preluded those melodious bursts that fill The spacious times of great Elizabeth With sounds that echo still.
Page 127 - The reluctant pangs of abdicating royalty in Edward furnished hints which Shakspeare scarcely improved in his Richard the Second; and the death-scene of Marlowe's king moves pity and terror beyond any scene ancient or modern with which I am acquainted.
Page 267 - Pope's translation is far from unfaithful; but in the spirit, the atmosphere, so to say, of the original, the ballad-like version of Chapman is far superior. Bentley's criticism is, after all, the best and most comprehensive that has yet been made on this work: "It is a pretty poem, Mr. Pope, but you must not call it Homer.
Page 424 - But, from the arms of silence — list ! O list ! The music bursteth into second life ; The notes luxuriate, every stone is kissed By sound, or ghost of sound, in mazy strife ; Heart-thrilling strains, that cast, before the eye Of the devout, a veil of ecstasy ! CONTINUED.

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