English Bards and Scotch Reviewers: A Satire. Ode to the Land of the Gaul. Sketch from Private Life. Windsor Poetics, EtcLe Roy-Berger, 1822 - Всего страниц: 83 |
Результаты поиска по книге
Результаты 1 – 5 из 7
Стр. 16
... lyre , and MARO sung , An Epic scarce ten centuries could claim , While awe - struck nations hailed the magic name : The work of each immortal Bard appears The single wonder of a thousand years * . Empires have mouldered from the face ...
... lyre , and MARO sung , An Epic scarce ten centuries could claim , While awe - struck nations hailed the magic name : The work of each immortal Bard appears The single wonder of a thousand years * . Empires have mouldered from the face ...
Стр. 22
... Lyre , whilst listening dames are hushed ? " Tis LITTLE ! young Catullus of his day , As sweet , but as immoral in his lay ! 280 Grieved to condemn , the Muse must still be just , Nor spare melodious advocates of lust . Pure is the ...
... Lyre , whilst listening dames are hushed ? " Tis LITTLE ! young Catullus of his day , As sweet , but as immoral in his lay ! 280 Grieved to condemn , the Muse must still be just , Nor spare melodious advocates of lust . Pure is the ...
Стр. 28
... Lyre in vain . 390 . In him an author's luckless lot behold ! Condemned to make the books which once he sold . Oh ! AMOS COTTLE ! Phoebus ! -what a name To fill the speaking trump of future fame ! — Oh ! AMOS COTTLE ! for a moment think ...
... Lyre in vain . 390 . In him an author's luckless lot behold ! Condemned to make the books which once he sold . Oh ! AMOS COTTLE ! Phoebus ! -what a name To fill the speaking trump of future fame ! — Oh ! AMOS COTTLE ! for a moment think ...
Стр. 29
... lyre and cheek serenely pale , Lo ! sad ALCEUS wanders down the vale ! Though fair they rose , and might have bloomed at last , His hopes have perished by the northern blast : Nipped in the bud by Caledonian gales , His blossoms wither ...
... lyre and cheek serenely pale , Lo ! sad ALCEUS wanders down the vale ! Though fair they rose , and might have bloomed at last , His hopes have perished by the northern blast : Nipped in the bud by Caledonian gales , His blossoms wither ...
Стр. 43
... lyre , The song from Italy , the step from France , The midnight orgy , and the mazy dance , The smile of beauty , and the flush of wine , 630 For fops , fools , gamesters , knaves , and Lords com- bine : Each to his humour , -Comus all ...
... lyre , The song from Italy , the step from France , The midnight orgy , and the mazy dance , The smile of beauty , and the flush of wine , 630 For fops , fools , gamesters , knaves , and Lords com- bine : Each to his humour , -Comus all ...
Другие издания - Просмотреть все
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
AMOS COTTLE applaud ARTHUR'S seat Ballads Bard beauties Behold blest boast BowLES's burthen CAMOENS CAPEL LOFFT CARLISLE CATULLUS Critics damned dare delight Deloraine dull Dunciad E'en Edinburgh Review ENGLISH BARDS Epic fame feel follies fools genius GIFFORD glory HAFIZ hail HALLAM hallowed hath hero HOLLAND's honour hope inspiration JEFFREY JEFFREY'S Joan of Arc Juvenal LAMBE LITTLE's live Lord Lord BOLINGBROKE Lord CARLISLE Lord Fanny Lordship luckless lyre Lyrical Ballads Marmion mind Minstrel Muse night numbers o'er thy once pistol Pixies poem Poesy Poet's poetical POPE praise Prince prose resign rhyme rhymester Satire scenes SCOTT scrawl scribbler shame to thy sleep smile song Sonnets sons soul SOUTHEY SOUTHEY's spirit spurn Stanza STOTT strain STRANGFORD taste thee themes thine thing thou throng toil Tolbooth traduce translator Triumphs verse William of Deloraine worthy write yield youth
Популярные отрывки
Стр. 54 - Unhappy White ! while life was in its spring,* And thy young muse just waved her joyous wing, The spoiler came ; and all thy promise fair Has sought the grave, to sleep for ever there. Oh ! what a noble heart was here undone, When Science...
Стр. 20 - Conceive the bard the hero of the story. Shall gentle Coleridge pass unnoticed here, To turgid ode and tumid stanza dear? Though themes of innocence amuse him best, Yet still obscurity's a welcome guest. If Inspiration should her aid refuse To him who takes a pixy for a muse, Yet none in lofty numbers can surpass The bard who soars to elegise an ass.
Стр. 9 - And shall we own such judgment? no — as soon Seek roses in December — ice in June; Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff, Believe a woman or an epitaph, Or any other thing that's false, before You trust in Critics...
Стр. 15 - And think'st thou, Scott! by vain conceit perchance, On public taste to foist thy stale romance, Though Murray with his Miller may combine To yield thy muse just half-a-crown per line? No! when the sons of song descend to trade, Their bays are sear, their former laurels fade.
Стр. 15 - Now forging scrolls, now foremost in the fight, Not quite a felon, yet but half a knight, The gibbet or the field prepared to grace; A mighty mixture of the great and base.
Стр. 19 - Who, both by precept and example, shows That prose is verse, and verse is merely prose; Convincing all, by demonstration plain, Poetic souls delight in prose insane ; And Christmas stories tortured into rhyme Contain the essence of the true sublime. Thus, when he tells the tale of Betty Foy, The idiot mother of "an idiot boy...
Стр. 9 - A mind well skilled to find or forge a fault, A turn for punning, call it Attic salt ; To JEFFREY go, be silent and discreet, His pay is just ten sterling pounds per sheet : Fear not to lie, 'twill seem a lucky hit, Shrink not from blasphemy, 'twill pass for wit ; Care not for feeling— pass your proper jest, And stand a critic hated yet caressed.
Стр. 54 - Henry Kirke White died at Cambridge in October, 1806, in consequence of too much exertion in the pursuit of studies that would have matured a mind which disease and poverty could not impair, and which death itself destroyed rather than sub dued.
Стр. 8 - Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print; A book's a book, although there's nothing in't.
Стр. 78 - FAMED for contemptuous breach of sacred ties, By headless Charles see heartless Henry lies ; Between them stands another sceptred thing — It moves, it reigns — in all but name, a king : Charles to his people, Henry to his wife, — In him the double tyrant starts to life : Justice and death have mix'd their dust in vain, Each royal vampire wakes to life again.