It is as a sea troubled by the breath of some unseen spirit,--wave upon wave rising, bending, and finally casting itself low in humility and self- sacrifice at the very footstool of the Most High.
LONDON 1914 CONTENTS PREFACE OF CRITICISM AND THE CRITIC THE EDINBURGH REVIEW: EDITOR'S NOTE From The Edinburgh Review (founded 1802) LORD JEFFREY ON-- SOUTHEY'S "THALABA" SOUTHEY'S LAUREATE LAYS THOMAS MOORE WORDSWORTH'S "EXCURSION" "ENDYMION" LORD BROUGHAM ON BYRON SYDNEY SMITH ON HANNAH MORE MACAULAY ON-- SOUTHEY'S COLLOQUIES CROKER'S "BOSWELL" W. E. GLADSTONE MADAME D'ARBLAY ANONYMOUS ON-- WORDSWORTH MATURIN'S "MELMOTH" THE QUARTERLY REVIEW: EDITOR'S NOTE From The Quarterly Review (founded 1809) GIFFORD ON-- WEBER'S "FORD" KEATS CROKER ON-- SYDNEY SMITH MACAULAY LOCKHART ON-- THE AUTHOR OF "VATHEK" S. T. COLERIDGE SIR WALTER SCOTT ON JANE AUSTEN ARCHBISHOP WHATELY ON JANE AUSTEN W. E. GLADSTONE ON TENNYSON'S POEMS CANON WILBERFORCE ON--DARWIN CARDINAL NEWMAN ANONYMOUS ON SCOTT'S--"WAVERLEY" "TALES OF MY LANDLORD" ANONYMOUS ON-- LEIGH HUNT'S "RIMINI" "SHAKESPEARE HIMSELF AGAIN" MOXON'S SONNETS "VANITY FAIR" AND "JANE EYRE" GEORGE ELIOT BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE: EDITOR'S NOTE From Blackwood's Magazine (founded 1817) PROFESSOR WILSON ON--POPE AND WORDSWORTH (Christopher North) LORD BYRON DR.
Now, when he said this, for no apparent reason, the eyes that had hitherto been looking into his, proud and scornful,--wavered, and were hidden under their long, thick lashes; the colour flamed in her cheeks, and, without another word, she was gone.
His straining ear caught the faintest, almost imperceptible vibration in the air--a soundwave so dim and obscure that it seemed impossible that the human mind could interpret it--but Ben recognized it in a flash.
Mr. Trelawney, a familiar of the family, has confirmed the unwavering testimony to Shelley's bounty of nature, where he says, "Shelley was a being absolutely without selfishness."
And so the heat slipped down with the sun to other horizons, coolness crept in upon the running river's breast with the dusk, dew gathered and lay darkly glittering on rail and spar and shroud as star by star stole out to sparkle in it; and Andrew raised his eyes at length, and they rested long and unwaveringly on the little figure sitting not far away with hands crossed about the knees and eyes looking out into the last light--the tranquil, happy face from which a white handkerchief kept back the flying hair while giving it the likeness of a nun's.
You'd think a respectable classical station could think of something more original to saturate the airwaves with.
"And then"--I told them, the young men who were wavering--"and then will come the question that you will always have to dread--when you have won through to the old age that may be yours in safety if you shirk now!
And shortly after, the firing having ceased, another officer, Baldwin, I think it was, came past and told us, with curses of vexation, that the men had been checked, by command, in the heat of the assault, when the greasers were already wavering,--and that the latter, recovering, had rebarricaded so strongly, that we might now all go back to Rivas and whistle.
May God give me grace to keep my vows without wavering!--for then I shall gain power to intercede for you and bring down blessings on your soul.
At last through a rift in the far mountains, a faint ghost would appear, and waveringly whiten the glacial breast of old God-Mother--the highest peak in the vision of Preshbend.
He was one of the four who accompanied the tragic and despicable flight of Nero from Rome in the year 69, and when, after many waverings of cowardice, Nero at last, under imminent peril of being captured and executed, put the dagger to his breast, it was Epaphroditus who helped the tyrant to drive it home into his heart, for which he was subsequently banished, and finally executed by the Emperor Domitian.
Although "The Antiquary" was not so well received on its first appearance as "Waverley" or "Guy Mannering," it soon rose to equal, and with some readers, superior popularity.
MURRAY'S REMOVAL TO 50, ALBEMARLE STREET Murray's removal to Albemarle Street--Miller's unfriendly behaviour--Progress of the Quarterly--Miscellaneous publications --D'Israeli's "Calamities of Authors"--Letters from Scott and Southey--Southey's opinions on the patronage of literature--Scott's embarrassments--Recklessness of the Ballantynes--Scott applies to Murray for a loan--Publication of "Waverley"--Mystery of the authorship--Mr.
Boundless as was his admiration for the genius of Scott and Byron, he abandoned one of the most cherished objects of his ambition-to be the publisher of new works by the author of "Waverley"--rather than involve himself further in transactions which he foresaw must lead to discredit and disaster; and, at the risk of a quarrel, strove to recall Byron to the ways of sound literature, when through his wayward genius he seemed to be drifting into an unworthy course.
Letters to his old correspondents--to Scott about the Waverleys, to Murray about the Dramas, and the Vision of Judgment, and Cain--make up almost the sole record of the poet's pursuits during the five following months.
ALICK POLWORTH, one of the servants of Waverley.--Sir W. Scott, Waverley (time, George II.).
Those who witnessed the entry of the Chevalier into Edinburgh lived to see the whole nation devouring with enthusiasm the novel of "Waverley,"--so entirely had the bitterness of what had happened "sixty years since" passed from their minds!
Waverley.--The sort of exchange of gallantry between the Baron of Bradwardine and Col.
Waverly, Sussex County, Virginia.
When tempests are seething and roaring from the Aesir's inverted bowl all seamen have heard his shouting and the cry that his mirth sends up: when the rim of the sea tilts up, and the world's roof wavers down, his face gleams white where distraught waves smite the Swimmer they may not tire.
The life at Wavertree was very different from that in Wales in many respects.
"He's a fine voodoo, with wavery arms and green eyes, and red glows."
He at once begun playing about in the waves as seals are often seen doing.
Wonder, as well thou may'st, why 'mongst the waves-- 'Mongst the tempestuous waves on raging sea, The wailing merchant can no pity crave.
It is barely two score years and ten Since the epoch-making day When a foreign fleet, through the summer heat, Came sailing up our bay; Still ring in my ears my father's words, As we watched it breast the waves,-- "If strangers land on Nippon's strand, We may one day be their slaves."
Side by side they were sitting on a moonlit margin of the world, and Antony was singing low to the murmur of the waves:-- Hopeless of hope, past desire even of thee, There is one place I long for, A desolate place That I sing all my songs for, A desolate place for a desolate face, Where the loneliest land meets the loneliest sea.
(The phial slips from WAGNER's hands, hovers over FAUST, and sheds a light upon him) Girt with beauty!--Water clear In the thick grove; fair women, who undress; Most lovely creatures!--grows their loveliness: But o'er the rest one shines without a peer, As if from heroes, nay from gods she came; In the transparent sheen her foot she laves; The tender life-fire of her noble frame She cools in yielding crystal of the waves.-- Of swiftly moving wings what sudden noise?
it waves,--a groaning sound is heard--... yet another stroke is necessary.
The War Under the Sea Britannia rules the waves.—Enter the submarine.—The blockade of Germany.—The sinking of the Lusitania and other ships.—The trade in munitions of war.—The voyages of the Deutschland.—Germany ready for peace (on her own terms).—The reply of the allies.—Germany’s amazing announcement.—The United States breaks off friendly relations.
The sea does not pant with passion, does not hunger after the beauty of the stars; Death has no mountain-tops, or any property which can be compared thereto; and "the dark waves"--in that most beautiful conceit which follows, and which Mr. Smith has borrowed from Mr. Bailey, improving it marvellously nevertheless--do not "pluck at the moon," but only seem to do so.
Among those who meditated on this geographical mystery was a young sea captain of Genoa, who had studied in the University of Pavia, but spent his early life upon the waves,--intelligent, enterprising, visionary, yet practical, with boundless ambition, not to conquer kingdoms, but to discover new realms.
Then came the crest of a larger wave,--slap--into the boat.
He then inquir'd: "How long Since thou arrived'st at the mountain's foot, Over the distant waves?"--"O!"
We usually go out a long distance, and when the sea is quite still I furl the sail; and we read, rocked by the waves,--or rather, she reads and I listen.
The care and skill required to navigate a vessel with safety into the Douro, even during the summer, may give an idea of what the perils of this dangerous bar must be during the winter months; when the coast is exposed to the unbridled fury of the westerly winds, and to the full force of the Atlantic waves.--Portugal Illustrated, by the Rev. W. Kinsey, B.D. See Select Views of Oporto.
It may be that "Leviathans" will march unheedingly through the mountain waves,--that steam and the Winans's model will obliterate old inventions and labors and triumphs.
The wind was favorable, but light, the sky clear, the sun directly overhead;--we were all beginning to feel the effects of a warm climate; the sailors were loosely clad in canvass trousers, striped shirts, and straw hats, and went lazily about their work;--the ship moved as lazily through the rippling waves;--the man at the helm drew his hat over his eyes, to shade them from the glare of the sun, and lounged listlessly upon the wheel;--the captain was below taking a nap, to the great relief of men and boys;--some of the passengers were sitting on the poop, under an awning, drowsily perusing a book or old newspaper; some leaning on the taffrail, watching the many-colored dolphin, and those beautiful, but spiteful, little creatures, the Portuguese men-of-war, which look so splendid as they sail gently on the smooth surface of the blue ocean, every little ripple causing a change of color in their transparent sails.
But now it cannot pass away, I see it wheresoe'er I go, And in my heart by night and day, Its gladness waveth to and fro, By night and day, Oh!
Footnote 18: "Oh, the wave"--Ula Deguisi is the Turkish appellation; but, on its own shores, it is called Baliar Loth, or Al-motanah.
But, indeed, I had no mind to aught, save that we come clear of that place; and I watched the Monster, through places between the boulders; and surely, in a little while, it swayed the great head very slow and quiet unto the cliff that did make that side of the Gorge; and the Brute set unto the Cliff, and began that it went upward with a strange moving of muscles that did go wavewise under the wet and horrid-gleaming hide.
It is intersected with a countless number of wave-like hills, many of which form regular terraces, and are planted with rice or coffee.
Sudden wave- like movements of its substance next occur; and, in a short time, the apices of the triangular mass burst, and give exit to a dense yellowish, glairy fluid, filled with minute granules.
The sea-birds shriek above the prey O'er which their hungry beaks delay, As shaken on his restless pillow, His head heaves with the heaving billow; That hand whose motion is not life, Yet feebly seems to menace strife, Flung by the tossing tide on high, Then levell'd with the wave-- What reeks it tho' that corse shall lie Within a living grave.
In Tremezzina's sheltered bay The wintry storms forget to rave; Without,--the white caps and the spray, Within,--a shore with scarce a wave,-- A favored spot where tempests cease, And Heaven whispers, "Here is Peace."
Seneca describes it in more than one of his epigrams, as a "Terrible isle, when earliest summer glows Yet fiercer when his face the dog-star shows;" and again as a "Barbarous land, which rugged rocks surround, Whose horrent cliffs with idle wastes are crowned, No autumn fruit, no tilth the summer yields, Nor olives cheer the winter-silvered fields: Nor joyous spring her tender foliage lends, Nor genial herb the luckless soil befriends; Nor bread, nor sacred fire, nor freshening wave;-- Nought here--save exile, and the exile's grave!"
The spirit of your fathers Shall start from every wave!-- For the deck it was their field of fame, And ocean was their grave; Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell, Your manly hearts shall glow, As ye sweep through the deep While the stormy winds do blow; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Is there a man whose judgment clear Can others teach the course to steer, Yet runs himself life's mad career Wild as the wave?-- Here pause--and thro' the starting tear Survey this grave.
"It began in this sublime strain, sir--'Beyond the wave!--Beyond the wave!'