The British Quarterly Review, Zväzok 77

Predný obal
Hodder and Stoughton, 1883
 

Čo hovoria ostatní - Napísať recenziu

Na obvyklých miestach sme nenašli žiadne recenzie.

Iné vydania - Zobraziť všetky

Časté výrazy a frázy

Populárne pasáže

Strana 278 - What sought they thus afar? Bright jewels of the mine? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? They sought a faith's pure shrine ! Ay, call it holy ground. The soil where first they trod. They have left unstained what there they found — Freedom to worship God.
Strana 14 - There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distil it out...
Strana 4 - If a man were called to fix the period in the history of the world during which the condition of the human race was most happy and prosperous, he would, without hesitation, name that which elapsed from the death of Domitian to the accession of Commodus.
Strana 72 - ... that great poem, which all poets, like the co-operating thoughts of one great mind, have built up since the beginning of the world.
Strana 39 - Evolution is an integration of matter and concomitant dissipation of motion ; during which the matter passes from an indefinite, incoherent homogeneity to a definite, coherent heterogeneity ; and during •which the retained motion undergoes a parallel transformation.
Strana 279 - England, said. *We will not say, as the Separatists were wont to say at their leaving of England, Farewell, Babylon ! Farewell, Rome ! But we will say Farewell, dear England ! Farewell, the Church of God in England, and all the Christian friends there.
Strana 351 - Hail to thee, blithe Spirit! Bird thou never wert, That from Heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
Strana 351 - The seasons bring the flower again, And bring the firstling to the flock And in the dusk of thee, the clock Beats out the little lives of men. O not for thee the glow, the bloom, Who changest not in any gale, Nor branding summer suns avail To touch thy thousand years of gloom : And gazing on thee, sullen tree, Sick for thy stubborn hardihood, I seem to fail from out my blood And grow incorporate into thee. O Sorrow, cruel fellowship, O Priestess in the vaults of Death, O sweet and bitter in a breath,...
Strana 71 - ... yet when at times I think, as think at times I must, of the appalling contrast between the hallowed glory of that creed which once was mine, and the lonely mystery of existence as now I find it, — at such times I shall ever feel it impossible to avoid the sharpest pang of which my nature is susceptible.
Strana 351 - OLD Yew, which graspest at the stones That name the underlying dead, Thy fibres net the dreamless head, Thy roots are wrapt about the bones. The seasons bring the flower again, And bring the firstling to the flock; And in the dusk of thee, the clock Beats out the little lives of men.

Bibliografické informácie