Readings on PoetryR. Hunter, (successor to J. Johnson,) ... and Baldwin, Cradock, and Joy, 1816 - Počet stran: 212 |
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Strana xxiv
... at pleasure at pleasure tremendous lengths of prose or poetry ! -Granting that by these new or these old arts the promised wonders can be atchieved- granting that two hundred or two thou- sand times as xxiv PREFACE .
... at pleasure at pleasure tremendous lengths of prose or poetry ! -Granting that by these new or these old arts the promised wonders can be atchieved- granting that two hundred or two thou- sand times as xxiv PREFACE .
Strana xxv
Richard Lovell Edgeworth, Maria Edgeworth. granting that two hundred or two thou- sand times as many words as ever before were learned by rote can now be stowed into the human head - granting that the magician can fulfil his boast , and ...
Richard Lovell Edgeworth, Maria Edgeworth. granting that two hundred or two thou- sand times as many words as ever before were learned by rote can now be stowed into the human head - granting that the magician can fulfil his boast , and ...
Strana 24
... thou hast seen Full many a sprightly race Disporting on thy margent green The paths of pleasure trace ) Who foremost now delight to cleave With pliant arm thy glassy wave ? The captive linnet which enthrall ? What idle progeny succeed ...
... thou hast seen Full many a sprightly race Disporting on thy margent green The paths of pleasure trace ) Who foremost now delight to cleave With pliant arm thy glassy wave ? The captive linnet which enthrall ? What idle progeny succeed ...
Strana 55
... thou bid'st me sing . " Energy . - A force or power of ex- ertion . A soul . - Without fancy poetry is like a body without a soul . Profane . - None but certain persons were admitted into certain parts of temples of the ancients , which ...
... thou bid'st me sing . " Energy . - A force or power of ex- ertion . A soul . - Without fancy poetry is like a body without a soul . Profane . - None but certain persons were admitted into certain parts of temples of the ancients , which ...
Strana 56
... thou lov'st to sit at eve , Musing o'er thy darling grave ; Oh ! queen of numbers once again Animate some chosen swain , Who filled with unexhausted fire , May boldly smite the sounding lyre ; May rise above the rhyming throng , And ...
... thou lov'st to sit at eve , Musing o'er thy darling grave ; Oh ! queen of numbers once again Animate some chosen swain , Who filled with unexhausted fire , May boldly smite the sounding lyre ; May rise above the rhyming throng , And ...
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Adversity alludes ancient appear armour Bard beautiful blush breast breathe caduceus called charms chil clouds colours creature crested crown despair Doctor Johnson dress earth Edgeworth Edward Enfield's Speaker ETON COLLEGE expression fair Fancy fate feel fire fury Gales give glory Goddess Gorgon grace head heaven Hesiod Homer house of York imagination imitation invention Johnson Jove judgement lance Latin lines lyre MARIA EDGEWORTH means merates Milton mind morn Muses nymphs o'er OVID pain Pandora Paradise Paradise Lost Parnel parody passage passion persons pleasing pleasure Plinlimmon poem poet poetical poetry praise Prometheus pupils purple quaternion queen rapture reign RICHARD LOVELL EDGEWORTH rise rock Ross round sense sentence shew sire smiles solemn song soul sound species stars sublime supposed sweet taste thee thing thou tion vale Venus verse Virtue wandering fires wave weave winding wings word young readers youth
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Strana 29 - Shame that skulks behind; Or pining Love shall waste their youth, Or Jealousy with rankling tooth That inly gnaws the secret heart, And Envy wan, and faded Care, Grim-visaged comfortless Despair, And Sorrow's piercing dart. Ambition this shall tempt to rise, Then whirl the wretch from high To bitter Scorn a sacrifice And grinning Infamy. The stings of Falsehood those shall try And hard Unkindness...
Strana 121 - The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself; * Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, Leave not a wreck behind.
Strana 24 - Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint To sweeten liberty: Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign And unknown regions dare descry: Still as they run they look behind, They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy.
Strana 117 - But neither breath of morn, when she ascends With charm of earliest birds; nor rising sun On this delightful land ; nor herb, fruit, flower, Glistering with dew; nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful evening mild; nor silent night, With this her solemn bird ; nor walk by moon, Or glittering star-light, without thee is sweet.
Strana 27 - Alas! regardless of their doom The little victims play; No sense have they of ills to come Nor care beyond to-day: Yet see how all around 'em wait The ministers of human fate And black Misfortune's baleful train!
Strana 113 - His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud ; and, wave your tops, ye Pines, With every plant, in sign of worship wave. Fountains, and ye that warble, as ye flow, Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise. Join voices all ye living Souls: Ye Birds, That singing up to Heaven-gate ascend, Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise.
Strana 32 - That every labouring sinew strains, Those in the deeper vitals rage ; Lo ! Poverty, to fill the band, That numbs the soul with icy hand, And slow-consuming Age.
Strana 103 - And ye five other wandering fires that move In mystic dance not without song, resound His praise, who out of darkness called up light. Air, and ye elements, the eldest birth Of Nature's womb, that in quaternion run Perpetual circle, multiform, and mix And nourish all things, let your ceaseless change Vary to our great Maker still new praise.
Strana 152 - On a rock, whose haughty brow, Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the Poet stood ; (Loose his beard, and hoary hair Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air) And with a Master's hand, and Prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
Strana 186 - He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.