The Eton Bureau, Nummers 1-6Ingalton and Son, 1842 |
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Pagina 120
... more ! O do not mar the sound ; Thou cans't no beauty round that relic fling ; while it floats above this hallowed ground Disturb it not ' tis memory's foster - ling . A. THE ETON BUREAU . No. IV . THE POET VIRGIL 120 ETON BUREAU .
... more ! O do not mar the sound ; Thou cans't no beauty round that relic fling ; while it floats above this hallowed ground Disturb it not ' tis memory's foster - ling . A. THE ETON BUREAU . No. IV . THE POET VIRGIL 120 ETON BUREAU .
Pagina 121
THE ETON BUREAU . No. IV . THE POET VIRGIL . If you take from Virgil his diction and metre , what do you leave him ? There is nothing real in the Georgics , except , to be sure , the verse . Coleridge's Table Talk . The great writer ...
THE ETON BUREAU . No. IV . THE POET VIRGIL . If you take from Virgil his diction and metre , what do you leave him ? There is nothing real in the Georgics , except , to be sure , the verse . Coleridge's Table Talk . The great writer ...
Pagina 122
... Virgil , I think , amply proves it . I cannot certainly deny that in some of the above- mentioned qualities , Virgil is very signally deficient . He cannot boast of much originality . Niebuhr in a very eloquent passage1 has pointed out ...
... Virgil , I think , amply proves it . I cannot certainly deny that in some of the above- mentioned qualities , Virgil is very signally deficient . He cannot boast of much originality . Niebuhr in a very eloquent passage1 has pointed out ...
Pagina 123
... Virgil at first sight has the advantage , from the extreme sweetness of his lines . When did Latin , ( perhaps even Greek , ) ever flow in such surpassing melody as this ? — Qualis populeâ morens Philomela sub umbrâ Amissos queritur ...
... Virgil at first sight has the advantage , from the extreme sweetness of his lines . When did Latin , ( perhaps even Greek , ) ever flow in such surpassing melody as this ? — Qualis populeâ morens Philomela sub umbrâ Amissos queritur ...
Pagina 124
... Virgil's transcript of the time of year when the nightingale is in best song ? Where are the thick leaves in which we know she delights to hide herself ? We have lost the exquisite truth of the flutter- ing motion , the quick half ...
... Virgil's transcript of the time of year when the nightingale is in best song ? Where are the thick leaves in which we know she delights to hide herself ? We have lost the exquisite truth of the flutter- ing motion , the quick half ...
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
Æneid Apollonius Rhodius barque beauty better breath bright Burton calm castle Catullus character charm child clouds dare dark dear death doth earth Eton Bureau Etonians evil eyes fair faith fancy fear feelings gaze gentle George Morland Georgics give grace grave Gwendolen hand happy hath heard heart heaven Herstmonceux holy honour hope King knew Ladon leave light live look Lord Byron Lord Dacre Lycophron Menedemus mind nature never night o'er once passed perhaps Phormio poet poor prayer Procles Puddletown readers round scarce scene scorn seemed shame shew shuffler sigh similes smile soft song sorrow soul spirit stream sure sweet tears tell thee things thou thought told TOMMY GREEN truth Unterwalden verse Virgil waves wind Windsor Castle words write young youth
Populaire passages
Pagina 316 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
Pagina 274 - MAN, that is born of a woman, hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down like a flower ; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay.
Pagina 229 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things : There is no armour against fate : Death lays his icy hands on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Pagina 267 - A THING of beauty is a joy for ever : Its loveliness increases ; it will never Pass into nothingness ; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Pagina 187 - Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
Pagina 143 - Of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth; Let's choose executors and talk of wills : And yet not so — for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground? Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's, And nothing can we call our own but death, And that small model of the barren earth...
Pagina 265 - Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me : the brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to invent any thing that tends to laughter*, more than I invent, or is invented on me : I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men.
Pagina 335 - THE POET'S SONG. THE rain had fallen, the Poet arose, He pass'd by the town and out of the street, A light wind blew from the gates of the sun, And waves of shadow went over the wheat, And he sat him down in a lonely place, And chanted a melody loud and sweet, That made the wild-swan pause in her cloud, And the lark drop down at his feet.
Pagina 229 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill : But their strong nerves at last must yield ; They tame but one another still : Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow; Then boast no more your mighty deeds! Upon Death's purple altar now See where the victor-victim bleeds. Your heads must come To the cold tomb: Only the actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom...
Pagina 114 - The youth, he cried, whom I exiled Shall be restored to woo her. She's at the window many an hour His coming to discover: And he look'd up to Ellen's bower And she look'd on her lover — But ah! so pale, he knew her not, Though her smile on him was dwelling — And am I then forgot — forgot? It broke the heart of Ellen. In vain he weeps, in vain he sighs, Her...