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acted admiration Alfred Tennyson amidst appear beauty blank verse Bulwer Carlyle character Church critical death Dickens display doubt drama dramatists emotions equally essay expression eyes faculty fancy feeling fiction genius hand Harriet Martineau Hartley Coleridge heart Howitt human humour ideal imagination individual influence intellectual kind labour Landor laugh Leigh Hunt literature look Lord Macready Martin Chuzzlewit matter means ment mind moral nature never Nicholas Nickleby novel object Oliver Twist original Paracelsus passion peculiar perhaps Philip van Artevelde philosophy poem poet poetical poetry popular possess present principle productions prose reader remarks scenes sense Shelley Sordello soul Southwood Smith spirit story style success Sydney Smith sympathy taste Tennyson thing thought tion tragedy true truth verse Walter Landor whole William Wordsworth words Wordsworth write written
Página 206 - Turn thee, turn thee on thy pillow: get thee to thy rest again. Nay, but Nature brings thee solace; for a tender voice will cry.
Página 318 - His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful ! — Great God ! His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath ; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing ; his teeth of a pearly whiteness ; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun white sockets in which they were set, his shrivelled complexion, and straight black lips.
Página 46 - ... deaf, the blind, the lame, the palsied, the living' dead in many shapes and forms, to see the closing of that early grave.
Página 220 - And nearer fast and nearer Doth the red whirlwind come; And louder still and still more loud, From underneath that rolling cloud, Is heard the trumpet's war-note proud, The trampling, and the hum. And plainly and more plainly Now through the gloom appears, Far to left and far to right, In broken gleams of dark-blue light, The long array of helmets bright, The long array of spears.
Página 53 - ... to dive into the depths of dungeons: to plunge into the infection of hospitals ; to survey the mansions of sorrow and pain; to take the gauge and dimensions of misery, depression, and contempt; to remember the forgotten, to attend to the neglected, to visit the forsaken, and to compare and collate the distresses of all men in all countries.
Página 221 - AH Ben ! Say how or when Shall we, thy guests, Meet at those lyric feasts, Made at the Sun, The Dog, the Triple Tun ; Where we such clusters had, As made us nobly wild, not mad ? And yet each verse of thine Out-did the meat, out-did the frolic wine. My Ben ! Or come again, Or send to us Thy wit's great overplus ; But teach us yet Wisely to husband it, Lest we that talent spend ; And having once brought to an end That precious stock, — the store Of such a wit the world should have no more.
Página 193 - On a poet's lips I slept, Dreaming like a love-adept In the sound his breathing kept. Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses, But feeds on the aerial kisses Of shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses. He will watch from dawn to gloom The lake-reflected sun illume The yellow bees in the ivy-bloom, Nor heed nor see what things they be : But from these create he can Forms more real than living man, Nurslings of immortality.
Página 46 - Oh ! it is hard to take to heart the lesson that such deaths will teach, but let no man reject it, for it is one that all must learn, and is a mighty, universal Truth. When Death strikes down the innocent and young, for every fragile form from which he lets the panting spirit free a hundred virtues rise, in shapes of mercy, charity, and love, to walk the world, and bless it. Of every tear that sorrowing mortals shed on such green graves, some good is born, some gentler nature comes.
Página 281 - Be sure that God Ne'er dooms to waste the strength he deigns impart ! Ask the geier-eagle why she stoops at once Into the vast and unexplored abyss, What full-grown power informs her from the first, Why she not marvels, strenuously beating The silent boundless regions of the sky ! Be sure they sleep not whom God needs...