The Cambridge University Magazine, Volume 1,Nummer 1W.P. Grant, 1840 |
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Pagina 2
... things . His shrine is the heart of the sensitive and imagina- tive man . We have all our favourite authors ; -in youth especially we love to idolize some cherished novelist or poet , some one who can call up from the " realms of Faëry ...
... things . His shrine is the heart of the sensitive and imagina- tive man . We have all our favourite authors ; -in youth especially we love to idolize some cherished novelist or poet , some one who can call up from the " realms of Faëry ...
Pagina 19
... thing , if they would be at the trouble of extending them . " Chatterton was temperate to an excess . He seldom partook of animal food : -his chief sustenance was bread and water . His mother , poor woman , would sometimes endeavour to ...
... thing , if they would be at the trouble of extending them . " Chatterton was temperate to an excess . He seldom partook of animal food : -his chief sustenance was bread and water . His mother , poor woman , would sometimes endeavour to ...
Pagina 31
... thing is that same love - Ha ! ha ! ha ! —and they were about the trees , and the daisies - the bright - eyed daisies ; the daisies are my brothers , and I wrote and talked to them , and - and - but the time is fled away , and my poor ...
... thing is that same love - Ha ! ha ! ha ! —and they were about the trees , and the daisies - the bright - eyed daisies ; the daisies are my brothers , and I wrote and talked to them , and - and - but the time is fled away , and my poor ...
Pagina 32
... our own , and then we become poets . Fine thing is it to be a poet . Oh ! this poor brain of mine , how it burns ! But it is only for a moment ; there . now it is gone , and I am better for it afterwards . It is 32 Moon - Madness .
... our own , and then we become poets . Fine thing is it to be a poet . Oh ! this poor brain of mine , how it burns ! But it is only for a moment ; there . now it is gone , and I am better for it afterwards . It is 32 Moon - Madness .
Pagina 33
... thing to tell it is quite true - wonderfully true - Ha ! ha ! I was sitting in my room — a dark , dark night — you could see the darkness gather around you ; it came thick , very thick - you could feel it crawling about - oh ! so cold ...
... thing to tell it is quite true - wonderfully true - Ha ! ha ! I was sitting in my room — a dark , dark night — you could see the darkness gather around you ; it came thick , very thick - you could feel it crawling about - oh ! so cold ...
Overige edities - Alles bekijken
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
appointed beautiful Caius college Cambridge Catharine hall character Charles Chatterton Christ's college Christi Church Clare hall classical Corpus Christi college dark death degree dissenters divine earth Edward elected Emmanuel college eyes feel Fitzherbert genius gentlemen George Goldoni hath heart heaven Henry honour human imagination James Jesus college John John's college Keats king look Lord Bishop Magdalene college Master mathematics mind moon nature never o'er Pembroke Pembroke college Peter's college plane poem poet poetry Poland poor present Queens rectory Rosny scholar Shelley shew SIZARS smile society song soul spirit student sweet taste thee thing Thomas thou thought tion Trin Trinity college Trinity hall Tripos University vacant vicarage Vivian voice William young γὰρ δὲ ἐν καὶ μὲν τὰ τὸ τοῦ τῶν
Populaire passages
Pagina 377 - No war, or battle's sound Was heard the world around : The idle spear and shield were high up hung ; The hooked chariot stood Unstain'd with hostile blood; The trumpet spake not to the armed throng; And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.
Pagina 227 - ST. AGNES' EVE— Ah, bitter chill it was ! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold ; The hare limped trembling through the frozen grass, And silent was the flock in woolly fold...
Pagina 377 - The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set.
Pagina 503 - The ample proposition, that hope makes In all designs begun on earth below, Fails in the promis'd largeness : checks and disasters Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd ; As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap, Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain Tortive and errant6 from his course of growth. Nor, princes, is it matter new to us, That we come short of our suppose so far, That, after seven years...
Pagina 323 - With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies; How silently ; and with how wan a face ! What ! may it be, that even in heavenly place That busy Archer his sharp arrows tries...
Pagina 323 - I hear of poets' fury tell, But, God wot, wot not what they mean by it; And this I swear by blackest brook of hell, I am no pick-purse of another's wit. How falls it then, that with so smooth an ease My thoughts I speak; and what I speak doth flow In verse, and that my verse best wits doth please ? Guess we the cause ? What, is it this : Fie, no. Or so ? Much less.
Pagina 93 - Blind, old, and lonely, when his country's pride The priest, the slave, and the liberticide Trampled and mocked with many a loathed rite Of lust and blood; he went, unterrified, Into the gulf of death; but his clear Sprite Yet reigns o'er earth; the third among the sons of light.
Pagina 100 - I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright: I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Hath led me — who knows how? To thy chamber window, Sweet! The wandering airs they faint On the dark, the silent stream — The Champak odours fail Like sweet thoughts in a dream; The nightingale's complaint, It dies upon her heart; — As I must on thine, Oh, beloved as thou art!
Pagina 100 - When the lamp is shattered The light in the dust lies dead — When the cloud is scattered The rainbow's glory is shed. When the lute is broken, Sweet tones are remembered not; When the lips have spoken, Loved accents are soon forgot.
Pagina 90 - MANY a green isle needs must be In the deep wide sea of misery, Or the mariner, worn and wan, Never thus could voyage on Day and night, and night and day, Drifting on his dreary way, With the solid darkness black Closing round his vessel's track ; Whilst above the sunless sky, Big with clouds, hangs heavily...