The English School of Painting

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Cassell, limited, 1885 - 339 pages
 

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Page 218 - Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon ; Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, And on her silver cross soft amethyst, And on her hair a glory, like a saint : She seem'da splendid angel, newly drest, Save wings, for heaven : Porphyro grew faint : She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
Page 217 - As, supperless to bed they must retire, And couch supine their beauties, lily white; Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire.
Page 144 - To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men, — that is genius.
Page 248 - And, as the earth's first mercy, so they are its last gift to us. When all other service is vain, from plant and tree, the soft mosses and gray lichen take up their watch by the head-stone.
Page 318 - Rowlandson, the Caricaturist. A Selection from his Works, with Anecdotal Descriptions of his Famous Caricatures, and a Sketch of his Life, Times, and Contemporaries. With nearly 400 Illustrations, mostly in Facsimile of the Originals. By JOSEPH GREGO, Author of "James Gillray, the Caricaturist ; his Life, Works, and Times.
Page 218 - Anon his heart revives : her vespers done, Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees ; Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one ; Loosens her fragrant bodice ; by degrees Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees : 230 Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed, Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees, In fancy, fair St.
Page 218 - Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass, And diamonded with panes of quaint device, Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes, As are the tiger-moth's deep-damask'd wings; And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries, And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings, A shielded scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens and kings.
Page 245 - Yet wandering, I found on my ruinous walk, By the dial-stone aged and green, One rose of the wilderness left on its stalk, To mark where a garden had been. Like a brotherless hermit, the last of its race, All wild in the silence of Nature, it drew, From each wandering sun-beam, a lonely embrace; For the night-weed and thorn overshadow'd the place, Where the flower of my forefathers grew.
Page 202 - ... line, no instantaneous and evanescent expression of the visible things around him, nor any of the emotions which they are capable of conveying to the spirit which has been given him, shall either be left unrecorded, or fade from the book of record.
Page 145 - No law can be sacred to me but that of my nature. Good and bad are but names very readily transferable to that or this ; the only right is what is after my constitution, the only wrong what is against it. A man is to carry himself in the presence of all opposition as if everything were titular and ephemeral but he.

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