Landseer: A Collection of Fifteen Pictures and a Portrait of the Painter

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Houghton, Mifflin, 1901 - 98 páginas

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Página 83 - He prayeth well, who loveth well Both man and bird and beast. He prayeth best, who loveth best All things both great and small; For the dear God who loveth us, He made and loveth all.
Página 73 - Here the exquisite execution of the glossy and crisp hair of the dog, the bright sharp touching of the green bough beside it, the clear painting of the wood of the coffin and the folds of the blanket, are language — language clear and expressive in the highest degree. But the close pressure of the dog's breast against the wood, the convulsive clinging of the paws, which has dragged the blanket off...
Página 74 - ... which has dragged the blanket off the trestle, the total powerlessness of the head laid, close and motionless, upon its folds, the fixed and tearful fall of the eye in its utter hopelessness, the rigidity of repose which marks that there has been no motion nor change in the trance of agony since the last blow was struck on the...
Página 10 - Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. But, ere his fleet career he took, The dewdrops from his flanks he shook ; Like crested leader proud and high...
Página 70 - When up the lonely brooks on rainy days Angling I went, or trod the trackless hills By mists bewildered, suddenly mine eyes Have glanced upon him distant a few steps, In size a giant, stalking through thick fog, His sheep like Greenland bears ; or, as he stepped Beyond the boundary line of some hill-shadow...
Página 14 - I may never see you again. But if only you would come sometimes and look me in the eyes and make me feel as you have done to-day, you would drive the wild beast wholly from my heart, and then the veil would be a little drawn and I should know more of the things that wise men have prayed for knowledge of. And yet I feel it never will be — I have found the Grail. I have learned what Buddha learned, I shall never see you again. Farewell, (pp.
Página 37 - Believe me, nothing except a battle lost, can be half so melancholy as a battle won...
Página 4 - the old skinflint will be after us, sure as guns. Hurry! or we'll hear —' The deep-mouthed bull-dog's heavy bay resounding up the rocky way, and faint, from farther distance borne, the darned old rebel's dinner horn.
Página 14 - ... disappeared. Yan crouched in the willow thicket and strained his every sense and tried to train his ears for keener watching. A twig ticked in the copse that he was in. Yan slowly rose with nerve and sense at tightest tense, the gun in line — and as he rose, there also rose, but fifteen feet away, a wondrous pair of bronze and ivory horns, a royal head, a noble form behind it, and face to face they stood, Yan and the Sandhill Stag.
Página 44 - ... semi-human pathos of the dog's eyes, is not less effective than truthful. He lies in the broad sunlight, and the shadow of his enormous head is cast sideways on his flank as white as snow. He looks seaward with a watchful eye, and his quickness of attention is hinted at by the gentle lifting of his ears. The painting of the hide, here rigid and there soft, here shining with reflected light, there like down ; the masses of the hair, as the dog's habitual motions caused them to grow ; the foreshortening...

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