The British Novelists: With an Essay, and Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, Volume 43, Part 1

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F. C. and J. Rivington, 1820 - English literature
 

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Page 39 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, — The seasons...
Page 188 - THOU, to whom the world unknown With all its shadowy shapes is shown ; Who see'st appall'd th' unreal scene, While Fancy lifts the veil between : Ah Fear ! Ah frantic Fear ! I see, I see thee near. I know thy hurried step, thy haggard eye ! Like thee I start, like thee disorder'd fly...
Page vi - The other shape — If shape it might be called that shape had none Distinguishable in member, joint or limb, Or substance might be called that shadow seemed, For each seemed either — black it stood as Night, Fierce as ten Furies, terrible as Hell, And shook a dreadful dart ; what seemed his head The likeness of a kingly crown had on.
Page vi - His figure was striking, but not so from grace ; it was tall, and, though extremely thin, his limbs were large and uncouth, and as he stalked along, wrapt in the black garments of his order, there was something terrible in its air ; something almost superhuman.
Page vi - It bore the traces of many passions, which seemed to have fixed the features they no longer animated. An habitual gloom and severity prevailed over the deep lines of his countenance, and his eyes were so piercing that they seemed to penetrate, at a single glance, into the hearts of men, and to read their most secret thoughts ; few persons could support their scrutiny, or even endure to meet them twice.
Page 200 - O'er woody steep, and silent glen. Under the shade of waving trees, On the green bank of fountain clear, At pensive eve I sit at ease, While dying music murmurs near. And oft, on point of airy clift, That hangs upon the western main, I watch the gay tints passing swift, And twilight veil the liquid plain. Then, when the breeze has sunk away, And ocean scarce is heard to lave, For me the sea-nymphs softly play Their dulcet shells beneath the wave. Their dulcet shells!
Page 15 - As she inhaled the breeze, her strength seemed to return, and, as her eyes wandered through the romantic glades* that opened into the forest, her heart was gladdened with complacent delight: but when from these objects she turned her regard upon Monsieur and Madame La Motte, to whose tender attentions she owed her life, and in whose looks she now read esteem and kindness, her bosom glowed with sweet affections, and she experienced a force of gratitude which might be called sublime. For the remainder...
Page i - Barbauld) to scorn to move those passions which form the interest of common novels : she alarms the soul with terror; agitates it with suspense, prolonged and wrought up to the most intense feeling by mysterious hints and obscure intimations of unseen danger.
Page 16 - And vacant courts dull the suspended soul, Till expectation wears the cast of fear ; And fear, half -ready to become devotion, Mumbles a kind of mental orison, It knows not wherefore :— What a kind of being is circumstance! I...
Page 6 - He now seized the trembling hand of the girl, who shrunk aghast with terror, and hurried her towards La Motte, whom surprise still kept silent. She sunk at his feet, and with supplicating eyes, that streamed with tears, implored him to have pity on her. Notwithstanding his present agitation, he found it impossible to contemplate the beauty and distress of the object before him with indifference. Her youth, her...

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