The literary character

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Northern Illinois University, 1867 - 152 Seiten
 

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Seite 252 - Is not a Patron, my Lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and when he has reached ground, encumbers him with help...
Seite 153 - Twas thine own genius gave the final blow, And help'd to plant the wound that laid thee low • So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, View'd his own feather on the fatal dart, And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd...
Seite 112 - Verily I have cleansed my heart in vain, And washed my hands in innocency. For all the day long have I been plagued, And chastened every morning.
Seite 193 - O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide Than public means which public manners breeds. Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand...
Seite 37 - I his childish feats display ? Concourse, and noise, and toil he ever fled ; Nor cared to mingle in the clamorous fray Of squabbling imps; but to the forest sped, Or roam'd at large the lonely mountain's head, Or, where the maze of some bewilder'd stream To deep untrodden groves his footsteps led, There would he wander wild, till Phoebus' beam, Shot from the western cliff, released the weary team.
Seite 12 - my history will not be long : the life that is devoted to knowledge passes silently away, and is very little diversified by events. To talk in public, to think in solitude, to read and to hear, to inquire and answer inquiries, is the business of a scholar. He wanders about the world without pomp or terror, and is neither known nor valued but by men like himself.
Seite 91 - Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings, This painted child of dirt, that stinks and stings; Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys, Yet wit ne'er tastes, and beauty ne'er enjoys: So well-bred spaniels civilly delight...
Seite 91 - I agree with you most absolutely in your opinion about Gray ; he is the worst company in the world. From a melancholy turn, from living reclusely, and from a little too much dignity, he never converses easily ; all his words are measured and chosen, and formed into sentences ; his writings are admirable; he himself is not agreeable...
Seite 135 - He arose, fresh as the morning, to his task : the silence of the night invited him to pursue it ; and he can truly say, that food and rest were not preferred before it. Every psalm improved infinitely upon his acquaintance with it, and no one gave him uneasiness but the last ; for then he grieved that his work was done.
Seite 146 - With curious art the brain, too finely wrought, Preys on herself, and is destroyed by thought. Constant attention wears the active mind, Blots out her powers, and leaves a blank behind.

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