The English Poets: Selections with Critical Introductions by Various Writers and a General Introduction, 3. ciltMacmillan, 1881 |
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Sayfa 2
... rhyme ' ; the epic style however seems to have been considered indispensable to the subject ; and allowing for this pre- liminary condition , Addison deserves credit for having depicted the character of his hero with some loftiness and ...
... rhyme ' ; the epic style however seems to have been considered indispensable to the subject ; and allowing for this pre- liminary condition , Addison deserves credit for having depicted the character of his hero with some loftiness and ...
Sayfa 18
... rhyme Was much too grave to be sublime , ' exclaimed its disappointed author in his last - published piece of The Conversation . Another long poem , the frigid paraphrase of the fine old ballad of The Not - Browne Maid to which he gave ...
... rhyme Was much too grave to be sublime , ' exclaimed its disappointed author in his last - published piece of The Conversation . Another long poem , the frigid paraphrase of the fine old ballad of The Not - Browne Maid to which he gave ...
Sayfa 33
... rhymes The women to incense , Resenting heroines of those times Soon punished his offence ; And as the Hebrus rolled his skull , And harp besmeared with blood , They , clashing as the waves grew full , Still harmonised the flood . But ...
... rhymes The women to incense , Resenting heroines of those times Soon punished his offence ; And as the Hebrus rolled his skull , And harp besmeared with blood , They , clashing as the waves grew full , Still harmonised the flood . But ...
Sayfa 36
... rhyme . Generally careless , often harsh , his versification is seldom laboured : his pen may run till it wearies the reader ; but we see no reason in fall of energy why Swift's Hudibrastic jingle should cease , any more than why the ...
... rhyme . Generally careless , often harsh , his versification is seldom laboured : his pen may run till it wearies the reader ; but we see no reason in fall of energy why Swift's Hudibrastic jingle should cease , any more than why the ...
Sayfa 38
... rhyme and halting rhythm , to his end . War with the cold steel of prose was his business his poems are the mere side - lights and pastimes of a man too grim to join heartily in any game . Only here and there among them , as in the ...
... rhyme and halting rhythm , to his end . War with the cold steel of prose was his business his poems are the mere side - lights and pastimes of a man too grim to join heartily in any game . Only here and there among them , as in the ...
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Sık kullanılan terimler ve kelime öbekleri
Addison admiration Ambrose Philips beauty beneath Birks of Aberfeldy blest born breast breath Burns charm Chatterton criticism dear death delight Dryden Dunciad e'er Eclogues English English poetry Epistle Ev'n ev'ry eyes fair fame fate feel fool frae genius GEORGE SAINTSBURY grace Gratius Faliscus grave Gray Grongar Hill hand happy hear heart heaven Horace Walpole kings labour literary live Lord Lord Hervey mind moral muse nature ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er once pain passion perhaps Pindaric pleasure poem poet poet's poetical poetry Pope Pope's praise pride prose rhyme rise round satire sense shade shine sing smile song soul spirit Spleen sweet Swift taste tear tell thee things thou thought thro toil trembling truth turns Twas verse virtue Whig wind wise write youth
Popüler pasajlar
Sayfa 263 - Other refuge have I none — Hangs my helpless soul on Thee : Leave, ah ! leave me not alone, Still support and comfort me ! , All my trust on Thee is stay'd, All my help from Thee I bring: Cover my defenceless head With the shadow of thy wing.
Sayfa 288 - O'erhang his wavy bed: Now air is hush'd, save where the weak-eyed bat With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn, As oft he rises, 'midst the twilight path Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum...
Sayfa 262 - Lover of my soul, Let me to Thy bosom fly, While the nearer waters roll, While the tempest still is high; Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, Till the storm of life is past; Safe into the haven guide, O receive my soul at last.
Sayfa 478 - I will obey, not willingly alone, But gladly, as the precept were her own ; And, while that face renews my filial grief, Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief, Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, A momentary dream that thou art she.
Sayfa 464 - Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups That cheer but not inebriate wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
Sayfa 335 - Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.' THE EPITAPH Here rests his head upon the lap of earth A youth to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair science frowned not on his humble birth, And melancholy marked him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, . Heaven did a recompense as largely send: He gave to misery all he had, a tear: He gained from heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend.
Sayfa 562 - Ye banks and braes and streams around The castle o' Montgomery, Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie ! There simmer first unfauld her robes, And there the langest tarry ; For there I took the last fareweel O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie ; For dear to me as light and life Was my...
Sayfa 373 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree...
Sayfa 375 - Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew, Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain. In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs - and God has given my share...
Sayfa 483 - Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary ! For, could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see ? The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary ! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign ; Yet gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary!