The Quarterly Review, Том 131John Murray, 1871 |
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Стр. 7
depositary of the local traditions of the place , and living so near the poet's own times , was hardly likely to have invented such a tale , though he may have disfigured it . That Shakspeare's father , combining a variety of kindred ...
depositary of the local traditions of the place , and living so near the poet's own times , was hardly likely to have invented such a tale , though he may have disfigured it . That Shakspeare's father , combining a variety of kindred ...
Стр. 10
... living so near to Coventry , should not often have witnessed the crude dramatic representations of the times , and equally impos- sible that the dramatic genius within him , that was never crude , never less than powerful , should not ...
... living so near to Coventry , should not often have witnessed the crude dramatic representations of the times , and equally impos- sible that the dramatic genius within him , that was never crude , never less than powerful , should not ...
Стр. 13
... living in times . which were favourable to poetry - and to dramatic poetry espe- cially when men were still inspired by the excitement of past and of passing events - when individual characterism had not yet crystallized into one dull ...
... living in times . which were favourable to poetry - and to dramatic poetry espe- cially when men were still inspired by the excitement of past and of passing events - when individual characterism had not yet crystallized into one dull ...
Стр. 18
... living . ' What is your profession ? ' said Roberto . Truly , sir , ' said he , I am a player . ' ' A player ! ' quoth Roberto , I took you rather for a gentleman of great living ; for if by outward habit men should be answered ( judged ) ...
... living . ' What is your profession ? ' said Roberto . Truly , sir , ' said he , I am a player . ' ' A player ! ' quoth Roberto , I took you rather for a gentleman of great living ; for if by outward habit men should be answered ( judged ) ...
Стр. 22
... living at the time of my decease , the sum of 108. a piece , to make them rings for remembrance of me . ' Heminge died in 1630 . Henry Condell , whose name appears in the privy seal of James I. , 1603 , in conjunction with those of ...
... living at the time of my decease , the sum of 108. a piece , to make them rings for remembrance of me . ' Heminge died in 1630 . Henry Condell , whose name appears in the privy seal of James I. , 1603 , in conjunction with those of ...
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Стр. 360 - To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, . Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold Converse with nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Стр. 371 - twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.
Стр. 379 - Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more; Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind.
Стр. 379 - Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite; Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good. Ring out old shapes of foul disease, Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace.
Стр. 372 - Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, ye Whose agonies are evils of a day ! — A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay.
Стр. 26 - I remember the players have often mentioned it as an honour to Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he penned) he never blotted out a line. My answer hath been, "Would he ' had blotted a thousand," which they thought a malevolent speech.
Стр. 367 - It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whisper'd word; And gentle winds, and waters near, Make music to the lonely ear. Each flower the dews have lightly wet, And in the sky the stars are met, And on the wave is deeper blue, And on the leaf a browner hue, And in the heaven that clear obscure, So softly dark, and darkly pure, Which follows the decline of day, As twilight melts beneath the moon...
Стр. 369 - Spit, fire! spout, rain! Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters: I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness; I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children, You owe me no subscription: then, let fall Your horrible pleasure; here I stand, your slave, A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man.
Стр. 374 - Keats, who was killed off by one critique, Just as he really promised something great, If not intelligible, without Greek Contrived to talk about the gods of late, Much as they might have been supposed to speak. Poor fellow ! His was an untoward fate ; 'Tis strange the mind, that very fiery particle, Should let itself be snuffed out by an article.
Стр. 370 - And this is in the night : — Most glorious night ! Thou wert not sent for slumber ! let me be A sharer in thy fierce and far delight, — A portion of the tempest and of thee ! How the lit lake shines, a phosphoric sea, And the big rain comes dancing to the earth ! And now again 'tis black, — and now, the glee Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain-mirth, As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth.