English Poets of the Eighteenth CenturyErnest Bernbaum C. Scribner's Sons, 1918 - Всего страниц: 364 |
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Стр. xi
... VIRTUE ( 1734 ) , l . 148-165 , 170-183 , 189-199 121 PHILIP DODDRIDGE SURSUM ( 1735 ? ) 123 WILLIAM SOMERVILLE THE CHASE ( 1735 ) , BOOK II , ll . 119–171 . 123 HENRY BROOKE UNIVERSAL BEAUTY ( 1735 ) , BOOK III , 11. 1-8 , 325- 364 ; v ...
... VIRTUE ( 1734 ) , l . 148-165 , 170-183 , 189-199 121 PHILIP DODDRIDGE SURSUM ( 1735 ? ) 123 WILLIAM SOMERVILLE THE CHASE ( 1735 ) , BOOK II , ll . 119–171 . 123 HENRY BROOKE UNIVERSAL BEAUTY ( 1735 ) , BOOK III , 11. 1-8 , 325- 364 ; v ...
Стр. xvii
... virtue , wit , and poise of manner ; and , above all , the avoidance of public or private contentions . Culture and peace and the greater of these is peace ! The sentiment characterizes the first quarter of the eighteenth century . The ...
... virtue , wit , and poise of manner ; and , above all , the avoidance of public or private contentions . Culture and peace and the greater of these is peace ! The sentiment characterizes the first quarter of the eighteenth century . The ...
Стр. xxiv
... virtue being the love of hu- manity , his true religion the love of Nature . Be therefore of good cheer : evil merely appears to exist , sin is a figment of false psychology ; lead mankind to return to the natural , and they will find ...
... virtue being the love of hu- manity , his true religion the love of Nature . Be therefore of good cheer : evil merely appears to exist , sin is a figment of false psychology ; lead mankind to return to the natural , and they will find ...
Стр. xxvi
... virtues , abandon artificial civilization , and follow instinct . Brooke , in the prologue of his Gustavus Vasa , shows that he foresaw the political bearings of this theory ; it is , in his opinion , pecu- liarly a people " guiltless ...
... virtues , abandon artificial civilization , and follow instinct . Brooke , in the prologue of his Gustavus Vasa , shows that he foresaw the political bearings of this theory ; it is , in his opinion , pecu- liarly a people " guiltless ...
Стр. xxx
... and even as unsophisticated literature as Homer was then supposed to be , disclosed no heroes perfect in the sentimental virtues . Ossian appeared ; and the truth of sentimentalism seemed historically XXX INTRODUCTION.
... and even as unsophisticated literature as Homer was then supposed to be , disclosed no heroes perfect in the sentimental virtues . Ossian appeared ; and the truth of sentimentalism seemed historically XXX INTRODUCTION.
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AUGUSTUS MONTAGU TOPLADY auld auld lang syne bard beauty beneath blessed blest bliss breast breath charms clouds crown dear delight divine dread e'er earth eternal fair fame fancy fate fear Fingal flowers folly fools frae gale grace grave Grongar Hill hand happy hear heart Heaven hill human JOHN GILBERT COOPER king labour live Lubberkin lyre Matthew Prior mind moral murmurs Muse nature Nature's ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er Ossian pain passions peace plain pleasing pleasure poet poor praise pride proud rage raptures RICHARD JAGO rills rise round scene shade shine sigh sing skelpin smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spread spring swain sweet tears thee thine thou thought toil trembling truth Twas vale virtue voice wandering wave wild wind wings wretch wyllowe youth
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Стр. 183 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Стр. 218 - As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm ; Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
Стр. 185 - Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife Their sober wishes never learned to stray ; Along the cool sequestered vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Стр. 236 - Nothing in my hand I bring, Simply to thy cross I cling ; Naked, come to Thee for dress ; Helpless, look to Thee for grace ; Foul, I to the Fountain fly, Wash me, Saviour, or I die...
Стр. 143 - 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 stayed, All my help from thee I bring; Cover my defenceless head With the shadow of thy wing.
Стр. 184 - Await alike the inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death...
Стр. 160 - How sleep the Brave T_TOW sleep the brave, who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallow'd mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung ; There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair To dwell, a weeping hermit, there...
Стр. 269 - I would not enter on my list of friends (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense. Yet wanting sensibility) the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
Стр. 215 - Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates and men decay : Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade ; A breath can make them as a breath has made : But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroyed, can never be supplied.
Стр. 61 - Dreading e'en fools, by flatterers besieged, And so obliging, that he ne'er obliged; Like Cato, give his little senate laws, And sit attentive to his own applause; While wits and Templars every sentence raise, And wonder with a foolish face of praise — Who but must laugh, if such a man there be? Who would not weep, if Atticus were he? What though my name stood rubric on the walls, Or plaster'd posts, with claps, in capitals? Or smoking forth, a hundred hawkers load, On wings of winds came flying...