Hovedstrømninger i det 19de aarhundredes litteratur: forelaesninger holdte ved Kjøbenhavns universitet i foraarshalvaaret 1873, Volume 6Gyldendal, 1892 |
Common terms and phrases
altfor bekjendt Blik blive Blod Brev Childe Harold Coleridge Digter Don Juan dybe Død Edward Fitzgerald elskede elsker Elskov engelske England faldt forskjellige Frankrig Frihed fuldt føler følgende følte føre første gamle give gjennem Glæde Goethe Grund Grækenland havt helt hendes Hjerte holdt Hoved hvorledes høje højeste høre hørte Haand Indtryk Irland irske Jorden Kain kalde Keats kjende Kjærlighed Konge Kraft Kvinder lade Lady Land Landor levende Lidenskab lige ligesaa Lord Byron længe læse Mand Marmion Melankoli Menneske Mænd mørke Maade maatte Napoleon Natur Naturalisme Newstead ning næsten Personlighed Poesi poetiske politiske Prometheus Ravenna Rejse Robert Emmet romantiske sagde Sandhed Sang Satire Shelley sidste Sjæl skildrer Skjønhed Skotland skrev snart Southey Stanzer stod stolt stærkt staar synes Søskolens saadan saaledes Tanker Thalaba thee Thomas Moore tilbage Træk Tyskland tænke Udtryk Venedig Venner Verden virkelig Værker Walter Scott Wordsworth Øje Øjeblik Øjne Aand Aarhundrede
Popular passages
Page 302 - I STROVE with none, for none was worth my strife; Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art; I warmed both hands before the fire of life; It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
Page 254 - She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps. And lovers around her are sighing; But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying.
Page 281 - Like flames too pure and light and unimbued To nourish their bright lives with baser prey, Which point to Heaven and cannot pass away : One hope within two wills, one will beneath Two overshadowing minds, one life, one death, One Heaven, one Hell, one immortality, And one annihilation.
Page 150 - How beautiful is night ! A dewy freshness fills the silent air, No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain, Breaks the serene of heaven : In full-orbed glory yonder moon divine Rolls through the dark blue depths.
Page 287 - YE Mariners of England That guard our native seas, Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, The battle and the breeze — Your glorious standard launch again To match another foe ! And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow, — While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Page 326 - Its passions will rock thee, As the storms rock the ravens on high ; Bright reason will mock thee, Like the sun from a wintry sky. From thy nest every rafter Will rot, and thine eagle home Leave thee naked to laughter, When leaves fall and cold winds come.
Page 325 - When the lamp is shattered The light in the dust lies dead — When the cloud is scattered The rainbow's glory is shed. When the lute is broken, Sweet tones are remembered not; When the lips have spoken, Loved accents are soon forgot.
Page 278 - WHEN we two parted . In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted, To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss ; Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this. The dew of the morning Sunk chill on my brow — It felt like the warning Of what I feel now. Thy vows are all broken, And light is thy fame ; I hear thy name spoken, And share in its shame. They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear ; A shudder comes o'er me — Why wert thou so dear ? They know...
Page 281 - Our breath shall intermix, our bosoms bound, And our veins beat together; and our lips, With o'ther eloquence than words, eclipse The soul that burns between them ; and the wells Which boil under our being's inmost cells, The fountains of our deepest life, shall be Confused in passion's golden purity, As mountain-springs under the morning Sun. We shall become the same, we shall be one Spirit within two frames, oh ! wherefore two...
Page 323 - ONE word is too often profaned For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely disdained For thee to disdain it; One hope is too like despair For prudence to smother, And pity from thee more dear Than that from another. I can give not what men call love, But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above And the Heavens reject not, — The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow?