The Autobiography, Times, Opinions, and Contemporaries of Sir Egerton Brydges, Bart, Volumen2

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Cochrane and M'Crone, 1834 - 428 páginas
 

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Página 193 - I never hear the loud solitary whistle of the curlew in a summer noon, or the wild mixing cadence of a troop of gray plover in an autumnal morning, without feeling an elevation of soul like the enthusiasm of devotion or poetry. Tell me, my dear friend, to what can this be owing ? Are we a piece of machinery, which, like the ^Eolian harp, passive, takes the impression of the passing accident; or do these workings argue something within us above the trodden clod...
Página 194 - Are we a piece of machinery, which, like the 10 /Eolian harp, passive, takes the impression of the passing accident; or do these workings argue something within us above the trodden clod ? I own myself partial to such proofs of those awful and important realities: a God that made all things, man's immaterial and immortal nature, and a world of 1 5 weal or wo beyond death and the grave.
Página 246 - MY days among the Dead are past ; Around me I behold, Where'er these casual eyes are cast, The mighty minds of old: My never-failing friends are they, With whom I converse day by day.
Página 171 - Our notions upon this subject may perhaps appear extravagant, but if an individual is really of consequence enough to have his life and character recorded for public remembrance, we have always been of opinion that the public ought to be made acquainted with all the inward springs and relations of his character.
Página 246 - ... are with the Dead ; with them I live in long-past years, Their virtues love, their faults condemn, Partake their hopes and fears, And from their lessons seek and find Instruction with an humble mind. My hopes are with the Dead ; anon My place with them will be, And I with them shall travel on Through all Futurity ; Yet leaving here a name, I trust, That will not perish in the dust.
Página 237 - Through glens untrod and woods that frowned on high, Two sleeping nymphs with wonder mute I spy! — And lo, she's gone! — in robe of dark green hue, 'Twas Echo from her sister Silence flew: For quick the hunter's horn resounded to the sky! In shade affrighted Silence melts away. Not so her sister! — hark, for onward still With far-heard step she takes her listening...
Página 246 - Around me I behold, Where'er these casual eyes are cast, The mighty minds of old : My never-failing friends are they, With whom I converse day by day. With them I take delight in weal And seek relief in woe; And while I understand and feel How much to them I owe, My cheeks have often been bedew'd With tears of thoughtful gratitude.
Página xxiii - Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer, Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike ; Just hint a fault and hesitate dislike...
Página 241 - I could understand enough of them to follow the story of their plays : but she had thrown away the pastoral parts and the miserable pieces of metre with which those parts are encumbered, and therefore I had nothing to interrupt my enjoyment of the romance. Spenser afterwards increased my veneration for Sydney ; and Penshurst, when I first saw it (in 1791), was the holiest ground I had ever visited.
Página 193 - I view and hang over with particular delight. I never hear the loud solitary whistle of the curlew in a summer noon, or the wild mixing cadence of a troop of grey plover in an autumnal morning, without feeling an elevation of soul like the enthusiasm of devotion or poetry.

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