The Autobiography of William Jerdan: With His Literary, Political and Social Reminiscences and Correspondence During the Last Fifty Years, Band 3

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Arthur Hall, Virtue & Company, 1852 - 444 Seiten
 

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Seite 11 - ALL my past life is mine no more; The flying hours are gone, Like transitory dreams given o'er, Whose images are kept in store By memory alone. The time that is to come is not; How can it then be mine? The present moment's all my lot; And that, as fast as it is got, Phillis, is only thine.
Seite 352 - If by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them : The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek, Dashes the fire out. O ! I have suffered With those that I saw suffer : a brave vessel, Who had no doubt some noble creature in her, Dash'd all to pieces.
Seite 208 - Of every hearer; for it so falls out That what we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it, but being lack'd and lost, Why, then we rack the value, then we find The virtue that possession would not show us Whiles it was ours.
Seite 177 - THE MICHAELMAS DAISY. LAST smile of the departing year, Thy sister sweets are flown ! Thy pensive wreath is far more dear From blooming thus alone ! Thy tender blush, thy simple frame, Unnoticed might have passed ; But now thou com'st, with softer claim, The loveliest and the last. Sweet are the charms in thee we find, — Emblem of Hope's gay wing ; 'Tis thine to call past bloom to mind, To promise future spring.
Seite 34 - By numbers here from shame or censure free All crimes are safe, but hated poverty. This, only this, the rigid law pursues ; This, only this, provokes the snarling muse. The sober trader at a tatter'd cloak Wakes from his dream, and labours for a joke; With brisker air the silken courtiers gaze, And turn the varied taunt a thousand ways...
Seite 222 - OH, when I was a tiny boy My days and nights were full of joy, My mates were blithe and kind ! — No wonder that I sometimes sigh, And dash the tear-drop from my eye, To cast a look behind ! A hoop was an eternal round Of pleasure. In those days I found A top a joyous thing ; — But now those past delights I drop, My head, alas ! is all my top, And careful thoughts the string...
Seite 336 - FLORA — dear creature! — you'd swear, When her delicate feet in the dance twinkle round, That her steps are of light, that her home is the air, And she only par complaisance touches the ground.
Seite 34 - But here more slow, where all are slaves to gold, Where looks are merchandise, and smiles are sold; Where won by bribes, by flatteries implor'd, The groom retails the favours of his lord. But hark! th...
Seite 46 - By envious or by idle tongue ! Given by vapid fools, who laud Only if others do the same ; Forgotten even while the breath Is on the air that bears your name. And he ! what was his fate, the bard, He of the Desert Harp, whose song Flow'd freely, wildly, as the wind That bore him and his harp along ? That fate which waits the gifted one, To pine, each finer impulse check'd ; At length to sink, and die beneath The shade and silence of neglect. And this the polish'd age, that springs The phoenix from...
Seite 24 - ... a movement of imagination or passion is impressed on the mind, by which it seeks to prolong and repeat the emotion, to bring all other objects into accord with it, and to give the same movement of harmony, sustained and continuous, or gradually varied, according to the occasion, to the sounds that express it — this is poetry.

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