The Living Authors of America: 1st serStringer and Townsend, 1850 - 365 Seiten |
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Seite 5
... truth is that we ourselves are uttering their sentiments , modified by our own egotism . The origin of every thought is so obscure , that it may be doubted whether any man living can claim the individuality of his opinions , however ...
... truth is that we ourselves are uttering their sentiments , modified by our own egotism . The origin of every thought is so obscure , that it may be doubted whether any man living can claim the individuality of his opinions , however ...
Seite 18
... truth of our remarks , that this very pecu- liarity has been converted by many into a merit , and claimed as an evidence of this distinguished author's freedom from national prejudice , and willingness to do justice to all . As we shall ...
... truth of our remarks , that this very pecu- liarity has been converted by many into a merit , and claimed as an evidence of this distinguished author's freedom from national prejudice , and willingness to do justice to all . As we shall ...
Seite 22
... truth , so lofty as to appear subtilized . In this case , the lowest intellect , as well as the highest , is carried to the full extent of its capacity of enjoyment or thought , and still the author is not exhausted . It is this which ...
... truth , so lofty as to appear subtilized . In this case , the lowest intellect , as well as the highest , is carried to the full extent of its capacity of enjoyment or thought , and still the author is not exhausted . It is this which ...
Seite 27
... truth should reign , and not prejudice . Pursuing this plan , History itself might be altered to suit national feeling . A certain patriotic leaning is perhaps unavoidable , and we can readily sympathize with its exhibition ; but it ...
... truth should reign , and not prejudice . Pursuing this plan , History itself might be altered to suit national feeling . A certain patriotic leaning is perhaps unavoidable , and we can readily sympathize with its exhibition ; but it ...
Seite 32
... truth to one of thy holy office . They have told thee there was a criminal here in the Lagunes , who hath provoked the anger of St. Mark ? ' * * * * * * * * * " Thou speakest of another ! -thou art not then the criminal they seek ...
... truth to one of thy holy office . They have told thee there was a criminal here in the Lagunes , who hath provoked the anger of St. Mark ? ' * * * * * * * * * " Thou speakest of another ! -thou art not then the criminal they seek ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Acadian admiration Alnwick Castle American Annabel Lee beauty beneath breath Bryant Byron Cachuca Carmelite character charm Coleridge consider Cooper critic Dana dark death dramatist dream earth elaborate elegant Emerson England English evidence expression fact fair feel force genius George Sand give gondola grave Halleck hand hath heard heart heaven HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW human HYPOLITO intellect JARED SPARKS Kirkland lady land Leigh Hunt light lines living Longfellow look Margaret Fuller mind Miss Fuller monomania nation Natty Bumppo nature never o'er once opinion passion peculiar poem poet poet's poetical poetry Prescott present prose quote Ralph Waldo Emerson reader remarks romance scene seems Shakspeare singular smile soul sound spirit stanza style sure sweet thee things thou thought throw tion true truth verse voice Willis woman word Wordsworth writings
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 127 - The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, Went envying her and me Yes! that was the reason (as all men know. In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night. Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
Seite 114 - TO HELEN. Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.
Seite 208 - THE groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the roof above them — ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of anthems ; in the darkling wood, Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down, And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks And supplication.
Seite 84 - And marked the mild, angelic air, The rapture of repose that's there, The fixed yet tender traits that streak The languor of the placid cheek, And — but for that sad shrouded eye, That fires not, wins not, weeps not now, And but for that chill, changeless brow...
Seite 129 - That I scarce was sure I heard you" — here I opened wide the door; Darkness there and nothing more.
Seite 194 - I see before me the Gladiator lie : He leans upon his hand — his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his drooped head sinks gradually low — And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder shower ; and now The arena swims around him : he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won.
Seite 126 - It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee ; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.
Seite 127 - For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee...
Seite 159 - The village smithy stands ; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands ; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan ; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.
Seite 128 - Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and. curious volume of forgotten lore — While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. " "Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door — Only this and nothing more.