"Pent" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... swelling on every side, And the sap begins to move in the vine. Then in all the cellars, far and wide, The oldest, as well as the newest, wine Begins to stir itself, and ferment, With a kind of revolt and discontent At being so long in darkness pent, And fain would burst from its sombre tun To bask on the hillside in the sun; As in the bosom of us poor friars, The tumult of half-subdued desires For the world that we have left behind Disturbs at times all peace of mind! And now that we ...
— The Golden Legend • Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
... Challenger began his march; And now, all eyes and feet, hath gain'd The middle of the arch. When list! he hears a piteous moan— Again! his heart within him dies— His pulse is stopp'd, his breath is lost, He totters, pale as any ghost, And, looking down, he spies A Lamb, that in the pool is pent Within that black and ...
— Lyrical Ballads with Other Poems, 1800, Vol. 2 • William Wordsworth
... our lines Thundered their iron answer. Horrible Rolled in the heavens the infernal thunders—rolled From hill to hill the reverberating roar, As if the earth were bursting with the throes Of some vast pent volcano; rocked and reeled, As in an earthquake-shock, the solid hills; Anon huge fragments of the hillside rocks, And limbs and splinters of shot-shattered trees Danced in the smoke like demons; hissed and howled The crashing shell-storm bursting over us. Prone on the earth awaiting the grand ...
— The Feast of the Virgins and Other Poems • H. L. Gordon
... opinion it was a way as good as another of putting on side. "What's the use of it? It is the stupidest set-out you can imagine," he pursued hotly. I remarked that there was no option. He interrupted me with a sort of pent-up violence. "I feel like a fool all the time." I looked up at him. This was going very far—for Brierly—when talking of Brierly. He stopped short, and seizing the lapel of my coat, gave it a slight ...
— Lord Jim • Joseph Conrad
... still youngish man, if five-and-forty may be reckoned youngish, with a pair of thin lips and powerful jaws which, for purposes of speech, he never opened if he could help it. Never,—till Sunday came: when, mounting the pulpit, he opened them indeed, and his pent-up utterance burst forth in a perfect torrent of a sermon, a wild gush of words, shouted at the topmost stress of a remarkably lusty voice, arresting for a minute or two by reason of the sheer physical energy it represented, and then ...
— My Friend Prospero • Henry Harland
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