Lessons from My Masters, Carlyle, Tennyson and Ruskin

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Harper & brothers, 1879 - 449ÆäÀÌÁö

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296 ÆäÀÌÁö - Ah ! who hath reft,' quoth he, ' my dearest pledge ? ' Last came, and last did go, The Pilot of the Galilean Lake ; Two massy keys he bore of metals twain (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain). He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake : ' How well could I have spared for thee, young swain, Enow of such as for their bellies...
340 ÆäÀÌÁö - Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that getteth understanding; for the merchandise of it is better than the merchandise of silver, and the gain thereof than fine gold.
286 ÆäÀÌÁö - Little remains : but every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things ; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard myself...
303 ÆäÀÌÁö - And he, shall he, Man, her last work, who seem'd so fair, Such splendid purpose in his eyes, Who roll'd the psalm to wintry skies, Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer, Who trusted God was love indeed And love Creation's final law Tho...
296 ÆäÀÌÁö - For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill...
286 ÆäÀÌÁö - Much have I seen and known ; cities of men And manners, climates, councils, governments, Myself not least, but honour'd of them all; And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. I am a part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move.
303 ÆäÀÌÁö - Nature, red in tooth and claw With ravine, shriek'd against his creed — Who loved, who suffer'd countless ills, Who battled for the True, the Just, Be blown about the desert dust, Or seal'd within the iron hills? No more? A monster then, a dream, A discord. Dragons of the prime, That tare each other in their slime, Were mellow music match'd with him.
145 ÆäÀÌÁö - Prussia was unknown ; and, in order that he might rob a neighbour whom he had promised to defend, black men fought on the coast of Coromandel, and red men scalped each other by the Great Lakes of North America...
284 ÆäÀÌÁö - Lo! in the middle of the wood, The folded leaf is woo'd from out the bud With winds upon the branch, and there Grows green and broad, and takes no care, Sun-steep'd at noon, and in the moon Nightly dew-fed; and turning yellow Falls, and floats adown the air.
222 ÆäÀÌÁö - Not in vain the distance beacons. Forward, forward let us range, Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change.

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