The Critical Review: Or, Annals of Literature, 24. köide

Front Cover
Tobias Smollett
R[ichard]. Baldwin, at the Rose in Pater-noster-Row, 1798

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Page 204 - Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods And mountains, and of all that we behold From this green earth ; of all the mighty world Of eye and ear ; both what they half create, And what perceive...
Page 204 - What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Page 204 - That time is past, And all its aching joys are now no more, And all its dizzy raptures.
Page 365 - The winds roared, and the rains fell. The poor white man, faint and weary, came and sat under our tree. He has no mother to bring him milk, no wife to grind his corn.
Page 39 - It is hardly necessary to add, that anything which any insulated body, or system of bodies, can continue to furnish without limitation, cannot possibly be a material substance ; and it appears to me to be extremely difficult, if not quite impossible, to form any distinct idea of anything capable of being excited and communicated in the manner the Heat was excited and communicated in these experiments, except it be MOTION.
Page 88 - To bridle a goddess is no very delicate idea; but why must she be bridled? because she longs to launch; an. act which was never hindered by a bridle: and whither will she launch? into a nobler strain. She is in the first line a horse, in the second a boat; and the care of the poet is to keep his horse or his boat from singing. The next composition is the far-famed Campaign, which Dr. Warton has termed a Gazette in Rhyme, with harshness not often used by the good-nature of his criticism.
Page 38 - ... must at the same time have been set at liberty, and, in making its escape into the atmosphere, would have been detected; but though I frequently examined the water to see if any...
Page 201 - The upper air bursts into life, And a hundred fire-flags sheen To and fro they are hurried about; And to and fro, and in and out The stars dance on between.
Page 204 - Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur; other gifts Have followed; for such loss, I would believe, Abundant recompence.
Page 201 - The sails do sigh, like sedge: The rain pours down from one black cloud And the Moon is at its edge. Hark! hark! the thick black cloud is cleft, And the Moon is at its side: Like waters shot from some high crag, The lightning falls with never a jag A river steep and wide. The strong wind reach'd the ship: it roar'd And dropp'd down, like a stone! Beneath the lightning and the moon The dead men gave a groan.

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