Critics such as Frye, Abrams, and Bloom who draw Blake into Wordsworthian Romanticism depict Jerusalemas a move towards individual mystical Christianity, with the apocalyptic impulses of the 1790s...doi:10.1057/978-1-137-39035-6_9David Fallon...
The first thought of God was an angel. The first word of God was a man. We were fluttering, wandering, longing creatures a thousand thousand years before the sea and the wind in the forest gave us words. Now how can we express the ancient of days in us with only the sounds of our ...
主的同在在这里|||Be still, my soul 安静,我的灵魂|||Be still, my soul 安静,我的灵魂|||Be Thou My Vision 成为我异象|||Beauty for Brokenness 破碎之美|||Because He Lives 因为他活着|||Before the Throne of God Above 在高天主的宝座前|||Blessed Assurance 有福的确据,基督属我|...
But in some way you have read our plans." She tore from the bosom of her dress a small packet. "These are my last words," said she; "here is the packet which will save Alexis. I confide it to your honour and to your love of justice. Take it! You will deliver it at...
'He grants a full pardon to the Vizier Ali, and not only gives him his life, but restores to him his fortune and his possessions.' My mother uttered a cry of joy, and clasped me to her bosom. 'Stop,' said Selim, seeing that she was about to go out; 'you see I h...
Nevertheless, vixenly as she looks, many people are seeking, at this very moment, to shelter themselves under the wing of the federal eagle; imagining, I presume, that her bosom has all the softness and snugness of an eiderdown pillow. But she has no great tenderness, even in her best ...
Uranus was the primordial god of the sky. The Greeks imagined the sky as a solid dome of brass, decorated with stars, whose edges rested upon the outermost limits of the flat earth. Uranus was the literal sky, just as his consort Gaea was the earth. The
死亡的歌谣跪下吧,亲爱的,用泪水充盈自己,用叹息作为腰带环绕在欢乐的边缘,遮住你的嘴唇和眼睑,让你的耳朵充满人们悲伤的谣言;用编织的叹息制作柔软的衣裳紧贴肉体,在其中设置痛苦和许多悲伤的事物,为每种悲伤配上臂环、颈甲和袖子。哦,死亡之地传来的爱的鲁特琴声,萦绕在那里的树上;哦,爱、时间和罪恶,三个低...
Yea, down from the very bosom of God. You cannot hide from the sun and the wind, Or the whispered song of the April rain, The proud earth that moulds all things to her mind, Shall gather you out of the deeps again. You shal...
The longer one stays here the more does the spirit of the moor sink into one's soul, its vastness, and also its grim charm. When you are once out upon its bosom you have left all traces of modern England behind you, but, on the other hand, you are conscious everywhere of th...