Elements of Rhetoric and Literary Criticism

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Harper & Bros., 1872 - 333 páginas
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Página 75 - With many a weary step, and many a groan, Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone; The huge round stone, resulting with a bound, Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground.
Página 262 - MILTON ! thou should'st be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Página 234 - For, e'en though vanquished, he could argue still, While words of learned length and thundering sound Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around; And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew That one small head could carry all he knew.
Página 234 - In vain for him the' officious wife prepares The fire fair-blazing and the vestment warm ; In vain his little children, peeping out Into the mingling storm, demand their sire, With tears of artless innocence. Alas! Nor wife, nor children, more shall he behold, Nor friends, nor sacred home.
Página 86 - The boar out of the wood doth waste it, and the wild beast of the field doth devour it. Return, we beseech thee, O God of Hosts : look down from heaven, and behold, and visit this vine; And the vineyard which thy right hand hath planted, and the branch that thou madest strong for thyself.
Página 222 - Though oft the ear the open vowels tire ; While expletives their feeble aid do join, And ten low words oft creep in one dull line : While they ring round the same unvaried chimes, With sure returns of still expected rhymes. Where'er you find " the cooling western breeze," i In the next line it
Página 86 - Why hast thou then broken down her hedges, So that all they which pass by the way do pluck her? The boar out of the wood doth waste it, And the wild beast of the field doth devour it...
Página 50 - Night, sable goddess ! from her ebon throne, In rayless majesty, now stretches forth Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world. Silence how dead ! and darkness how profound ! Nor eye nor listening ear an object finds ; Creation sleeps. Tis as the general pulse Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause ; An awful pause ! prophetic of her end.
Página 169 - The enemy said, I will pursue, I will overtake, I will divide the spoil ; my lust shall be satisfied upon them ; I will draw my sword, my hand shall destroy them.
Página 90 - And the king was much moved, and went up to the chamber over the gate, and wept : and as he went, thus he said, O my son Absalom, my son, my son...

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