Bentley's Monthly Review, Or, Literary Argus, Volume 2

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Piper, Stephenson and Spence, 1854 - Books
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Page 52 - When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there!
Page 389 - By poetry we mean the art of employing words in such a manner as to produce an illusion on the imagination, the art of doing by means of words what the painter does by means of colours.
Page 494 - Thammuz came next behind, Whose annual wound in Lebanon allured The Syrian damsels to lament his fate In amorous ditties, all a summer's day; While smooth Adonis from his native rock Ran purple to the sea, supposed with blood Of Thammuz yearly wounded...
Page 52 - 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 508 - Digressions, incontestably, are the sunshine, they are the life, the soul of reading : take them out of this book, for instance, you might as well take the book along with them ; one cold eternal winter would reign in every page of it : restore them to the writer, — he steps forth like a bridegroom, — bids All hail ; brings in variety, and forbids the appetite to fail.
Page 52 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
Page 494 - Even to that hill of scandal, by the grove Of Moloch homicide; lust hard by hate; Till good Josiah drove them thence to Hell. With these came they, who, from the bordering flood Of old Euphrates to the brook that parts Egypt from Syrian ground, had general names Of Baalim and Ashtaroth; those male, These feminine...
Page 490 - First Moloch, horrid king besmeared with blood Of human sacrifice, and parents' tears, Though for the noise of drums and timbrels loud Their children's cries unheard, that passed through fire To his grim idol.
Page 390 - The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven ; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothings A local habitation and a name.
Page 458 - Say, Muse, their names then known, who first, who last, Roused from the slumber on that fiery couch At their great emperor's call, as next in worth, Came singly where he stood on the bare strand, While the promiscuous crowd stood yet aloof.

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