English Men of Letters, Volume 7

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John Morley
Harper & Brothers, 1894
 

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Page 20 - Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife ! To all the sensual world proclaim, One crowded hour of glorious life Is worth an age without a name.
Page 81 - To lose good days, that might be better spent; To waste long nights in pensive discontent; To speed today, to be put back tomorrow; To feed on hope, to pine with fear and sorrow; To have thy prince's grace, yet want her peers...
Page 101 - That young lady had a talent for describing the involvements and feelings and characters of ordinary life, which is to me the most wonderful I ever met with. The Big Bow-wow strain I can do myself like any now going ; but the exquisite touch, which renders ordinary commonplace things and characters interesting, from the truth of the description and the sentiment, is denied to me.
Page 88 - I that was wont to behold her riding like Alexander, hunting like Diana, walking like Venus, the gentle wind blowing her fair hair about her pure cheeks, like a nymph; sometime sitting in the shade like a Goddess; sometime singing like an angel; sometime playing like Orpheus. Behold the sorrow of this world! Once amiss, hath bereaved me of all.
Page 79 - But that same gentle Spirit, from whose pen Large streames of honnie and sweete Nectar flowe, Scorning the boldnes of such base-borne men, Which dare their follies forth so rashlie throwe, Doth rather choose to sit in idle Cell, Than so himselfe to mockerie to sell.
Page 31 - The violet in her green-wood bower, Where birchen boughs with hazels mingle, May boast itself the fairest flower In glen, or copse, or forest dingle. Though fair her gems of azure hue, Beneath the dew-drop's weight reclining; I've seen an eye of lovelier blue, More sweet through wat'ry lustre shining.
Page 10 - Of witches' spells, of warriors' arms ; Of patriot battles, won of old By Wallace wight and Bruce the bold ; Of later fields of feud and fight, When, pouring from their Highland height, The Scottish clans, in headlong sway, Had swept the scarlet ranks away. While...
Page 46 - In varying cadence, soft or strong, He swept the sounding chords along: The present scene, the future lot, His toils, his wants, were all forgot: Cold diffidence, and age's frost, In the full tide of song were lost : Each blank, in faithless memory void, The poet's glowing thought supplied ; And, while his harp responsive rung, 'Twas thus the LATEST MINSTREL sung.
Page 37 - Minstrelsy than even in The Lay of the Last Minstrel, Marmion, and The Lady of the Lake taken together.

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