The English Novel and the Principle of Its DevelopmentC. Scribner's Sons, 1892 - 293 páginas |
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Adam Bede Amos Barton appears artistic aunt Aurora Leigh beauty beginning Blackwood's Blackwood's Magazine century character chorus Daniel Deronda death Deukalion Dickens Dinah Morris earth English novel Eschylus eyes fact fire Floss genius George Eliot Glegg Greek Gwendolen Harleth hand heart Hephæstus human idea imagination Jove King Arthur lecture light literary living look Maggie Marian Evans matter mind modern moral purpose nature ness never novelist observe Pamela personality physical picture Plato poem poet poetic poetry present Prometheus prose Pullet Pyrrha relation remember repentance republic scene Scenes from Clerical Scenes of Clerical scientific seems Shakspeare Shelley Silas Marner sister Socrates soul spirit story Thackeray thee things Thomas Carlyle thou thought tion true truth Tulliver verse voice Whitman whole wife woman words writing young Zola Zola's
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Página 74 - Its loveliness increases ; it will never Pass into nothingness ; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing A flowery band to bind us to the earth...
Página 97 - Fresh pearls to their enamel gave, And the bellowing of the savage sea Greeted their safe escape to me. I wiped away the weeds and foam, I fetched my sea-born treasures home; But the poor, unsightly, noisome things Had left their beauty on the shore With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar.
Página 41 - If thou survive my well-contented day, When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover, And shalt by fortune once more re-survey These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover, Compare them with the bettering of the time, And though they be outstripp'd by every pen, Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme, Exceeded by the height of happier men.
Página 38 - In each of which he seems to shake a lance, As brandished at the eyes of ignorance. Sweet Swan of Avon ! what a sight it were To see thee in our waters yet appear, And make those flights upon the banks of Thames, That so did take Eliza and our James! But stay, I see thee in the hemisphere Advanced, and made a constellation there! Shine forth...
Página 276 - O attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, Beauty is truth, truth beauty,— that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Página 97 - I thought the sparrow's note from heaven, Singing at dawn on the alder bough; I brought him home, in his nest, at even; He sings the song, but it cheers not now, For I did not bring home the river and sky; He sang to my ear, they sang to my eye.
Página 105 - From all the blasts of heaven thou hast descended : Yes, like a spirit, like a thought, which makes Unwonted tears throng to the horny eyes, And beatings haunt the desolated heart, Which should have learnt repose: thou hast descended Cradled in tempests; thou dost wake, O Spring! O child of many winds ! As suddenly Thou comest as the memory of a dream, Which now is sad because it hath been sweet...
Página 44 - Half-grown as yet, a child, and vain — She cannot fight the fear of death. What is she, cut from love and faith, But some wild Pallas from the brain Of Demons ? fiery-hot...
Página 55 - And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority, And folly doctor-like controlling skill, And simple truth miscall'd simplicity, And captive good attending captain ill.
Página 44 - Thro' all the dewy-tassell'd wood, And shadowing down the horned flood In ripples, fan my brows and blow The fever from my cheek, and sigh The full new life that feeds thy breath Throughout my frame, till Doubt and Death, 111 brethren, let the fancy fly From belt to belt of crimson seas On leagues of odor streaming far, To where in yonder orient star A hundred spirits whisper