Papers of the Manchester Literary Club, Volume 6H. Rawson & Company, 1880 |
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afterwards almanac appeared artist Biddulph boggart Bolton born borough of Congleton British Museum Bury called cathedral century character Charles Dickens Cheshire Chester Chetham Church collection comedy Congleton contains contributor copy death Earl earliest edition editor England English fancy fashion Free Library French friends Gad's Hill Place Gipsies Hall Henry Heywood History of Lancashire humour hundred James John King Lancashire and Cheshire late literary literature Liverpool living London Lord Manchester mind nature never Newcome painter painting pamphlets paper parish passed persons poet Poor preached printed proverbs published Richard Richard de Bury Robin Rochdale Rochester ROCHESTER CATHEDRAL says seems seen sermon Smithills Smithills Hall Society Street Thackeray theatre things Thomas thought thousand Tim Bobbin tion town tracts truth volumes Warrington William William Hull words write
Popular passages
Page 176 - Like a glow-worm golden In a dell of dew, Scattering unbeholden Its aerial hue Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view: Like a rose embowered In its own green leaves, By warm winds deflowered, Till the scent it gives Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves. Sound of vernal showers On the twinkling grass, Rain-awakened flowers, All that ever was Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass.
Page 126 - Come wealth or want, come good or ill, Let young and old accept their part, And bow before the Awful Will, And bear it with an honest heart, Who misses, or who wins the prize. Go, lose or conquer as you can ; But if you fail, or if you rise, Be each, pray God, a gentleman.
Page 113 - ... those his goodly eyes, That o'er the files and musters of the war Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn, The office and devotion of their view Upon a tawny front : his captain's heart, Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper; And is become the bellows, and the fan, To cool a gipsy's lust.
Page 176 - We look before and after, And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Page 175 - Like a poet hidden in the light of thought, singing hymns unbidden till the world is wrought to sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not. Like a highborn maiden in a palace tower, soothing her love-laden soul in secret hour with music sweet as love, which overflows her bower.
Page 158 - Roger, infant children of the aforesaid, were also dead and buried; and that the dark flat wilderness beyond the churchyard, intersected with dykes and mounds and gates, with scattered cattle feeding on it, was the marshes; and that the low leaden line beyond was the river; and that the distant savage lair from which the wind was rushing, was the sea; and that the small bundle of shivers growing afraid of it all and beginning to cry, was Pip.
Page 167 - Like one that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round, walks on, And turns no more his head ; Because he knows a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread.
Page 122 - Which speak of nothing more than what we are, Would I arouse the sensual from their sleep Of Death, and win the vacant and the vain To noble raptures ; while my voice proclaims How exquisitely the individual Mind (And the progressive powers perhaps no less Of the whole species) to the external World Is fitted : — and how exquisitely too — Theme this but little heard of among men — The external World is fitted to the Mind ; And the creation (by no lower name Can it be called) which they with...
Page 122 - Street; the innumerable trades, tradesmen, and customers, coaches, waggons, playhouses; all the bustle and wickedness round about Covent Garden; the very women of the Town ; the watchmen, drunken scenes, rattles; life awake, if you awake, at all hours of the night ; the impossibility of being dull in Fleet Street ; the crowds, the very dirt and mud...
Page 122 - My attachments are all local, purely local. I have no passion (or have had none since I was in love, and then it was the spurious engendering of poetry and books) for groves and valleys.