Englische Studien, Volume 23

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O. R. Reisland, 1897
 

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Page 320 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet But hark!
Page 144 - A sunbeam which hath lost its way, And through the crevice and the cleft Of the thick wall is fallen and left, Creeping o'er the floor so damp, Like a marsh's meteor lamp : And in each pillar there is a ring, And in each ring there is a chain...
Page 394 - Shades of the dead ! have I not heard your voices Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale!" Surely the soul of the hero rejoices, And rides on the wind o'er his own Highland vale.
Page 151 - The world was void, The populous and the powerful - was a lump, Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless A lump of death - a chaos of hard clay.
Page 60 - What would you have me retract? I thought your book an imposture; I think it an imposture still. For this opinion I have given my reasons to the public, which I here dare you to refute. Your rage I defy. Your abilities, since your Homer, are not so formidable, and what I hear of your morals inclines me to pay regard not to what you shall say, but to what you shall prove. You may print this if you will. SAM. JOHNSON.
Page 149 - What next befell me then and there I know not well — I never knew — First came the loss of light, and air, And then of darkness, too...
Page 139 - My hair is grey, but not with years, Nor grew it white In a single night, As men's have grown from sudden fears: My limbs are bow'd, though not with toil, But rusted with a vile repose, For they have been a dungeon's spoil, And mine has been the fate of those To whom the goodly earth and air Are...
Page 138 - And men forgot their passions in the dread Of this their desolation; and all hearts Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light: And they did live by watchfires - and the thrones, The palaces of crowned kings...
Page 33 - Did you never observe (while rocking winds are piping loud) that pause, as the gust is recollecting itself, and rising upon the ear in a shrill and plaintive note, like the swell of an /Eolian harp ? I do assure you there is nothing in the world so like the voice of a spirit.
Page 459 - Forsooth, brothers, fellowship is heaven, and lack of fellowship is hell : fellowship is life, and lack of fellowship is death : and the deeds that ye do upon the earth, it is for fellowship's sake that ye do them...

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