The Influence of the Classics on the Poetry of Matthew Arnold

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B. Blackwell, 1923 - 38 pages
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Page 35 - When did music come this way? Children dear, was it yesterday? Children dear, was it yesterday (Call yet once) that she went away? Once she sate with you and me, On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea, And the youngest sate on her knee. She combed its bright hair, and she tended it well, When down swung the sound of a far-off bell.
Page 15 - Listen! you hear the grating roar Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling, At their return, up the high strand, Begin, and cease, and then again begin, With tremulous cadence slow, and bring The eternal note of sadness in.
Page 17 - Alack, for Corydon no rival now! — But when Sicilian shepherds lost a mate, Some good survivor with his flute would go...
Page 6 - Isle forgets the main, And only the low lutes of love complain, And only shadows of wan lovers pine; As such an one were glad to know the brine Salt on his lips, and the large air again. So gladly, from the songs of modern speech Men turn, and see the stars, and feel the free Shrill wind beyond the close of heavy flowers And through the music of the languid hours, They hear like ocean on a Western beach The surge and thunder of the Odyssey.
Page 36 - Thin, thin the pleasant human noises grow, And faint the city gleams; Rare the lone pastoral huts — marvel not thou! The solemn peaks but to the stars are known, But to the stars, and the cold lunar beams; Alone the sun arises, and alone Spring the great streams.
Page 13 - Far off; — anon her mate comes winging back From hunting, and a great way off descries His huddling young left sole; at that, he checks His pinion, and with short uneasy sweeps Circles above his eyry, with loud screams Chiding his mate back to her nest; but she Lies dying, with the arrow in her side, In some far stony gorge out of his ken, A heap of fluttering feathers — never more Shall the lake glass her, flying over it...
Page 35 - She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay. Children dear, was it yesterday? Children dear, were we long alone? " The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan; Long prayers," I said, "in the world they say; Come!
Page 35 - I must go, for my kinsfolk pray In the little grey church on the shore to-day. 'Twill be Easter-time in the world — ah me! And I lose my poor soul, Merman! here with thee.
Page 15 - Sophocles long ago Heard it on the Aegean, and it brought Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow Of human misery; we Find also in the sound a thought, Hearing it by this distant northern sea.
Page 21 - Then, in such hour of need Of your fainting, dispirited race Ye, like angels, appear, Radiant with ardor divine ! Beacons of hope, ye appear ! Languor is not in your heart, Weakness is not in your word, Weariness not on your brow.

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