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Page 158 - To have thy asking, yet wait many years ; To fret thy soul with crosses and with cares ; To eat thy heart through comfortless despairs ; To fawn, to crouch, to wait, to ride, to run, To spend, to give, to want, to be undone.
Page 537 - The general end therefore of all the book is to fashion a gentleman or noble person in virtuous and gentle discipline...
Page 298 - Restraining prayer, we cease to fight . Prayer makes the Christian's armour bright ; And Satan trembles when he sees The weakest saint upon his knees.
Page 621 - ... in the full blaze of his majesty up rose the sun, than which one object alone in this lower creation could be more glorious, and that Mr. Allworthy himself presented — a human being replete with benevolence, meditating in what manner he might render himself most acceptable to his Creator, by doing most good to his creatures.
Page 601 - ... those dark Passages. Now if we live, and go on thinking, we too shall explore them. He is a genius and superior to us, in so far as he can, more than we, make discoveries and shed a light in them. Here I must think Wordsworth is deeper than Milton, though I think it has depended more upon the general and gregarious advance of intellect, than individual greatness of Mind.
Page 542 - Some have accused me of a strange design Against the creed and morals of the land, And trace it in this poem every line, I don't pretend that I quite understand My own meaning when I would be very fine ; But the fact is that I have nothing plann'd, Unless it were to be a moment merry, A novel word in my vocabulary.
Page 364 - ... Gay raiment, sparkling gauds, elation strong. A prop gave way ! crash fell a platform ! lo, 'Mid struggling sufferers, hurt to death, she lay ! Shuddering, they drew her garments off — and found A robe of sackcloth next the smooth, white skin. Such, poets, is your bride, the Muse ! young, gay, Radiant, adorn'd outside ; a hidden ground Of thought and of austerity within.
Page 632 - The moving Moon went up the sky, And nowhere did abide; Softly she was going up, And a star or two beside...
Page 544 - Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind, He has not left a wiser or better behind ; His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand, His manners were gentle, complying, and bland : Still born to improve us in every part, His pencil our faces, his manners our heart. To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering, When they judged without skill, he was still hard of hearing: When they talked of their Raphaels, Corregios, and stuff, He shifted his trumpet,* and only took snuff.