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 |
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Стр. 29
... sleep , So up thy hill , ambrosial Richmond ! heaves Dull MAURICE * all his granite weight of leaves : Smooth , solid monuments of mental pain ! 410 The petrifactions of a plodding brain , That ere they reach the top fall lumbering back ...
... sleep , So up thy hill , ambrosial Richmond ! heaves Dull MAURICE * all his granite weight of leaves : Smooth , solid monuments of mental pain ! 410 The petrifactions of a plodding brain , That ere they reach the top fall lumbering back ...
Стр. 30
... sleep * ! Yet , say ! why should the Bard , at once , re- sign His claim to favour from the sacred Nine ? For ever startled by the mingled howl 420 Of Northern wolves that still in darkness prowl : A coward brood which mangle as they ...
... sleep * ! Yet , say ! why should the Bard , at once , re- sign His claim to favour from the sacred Nine ? For ever startled by the mingled howl 420 Of Northern wolves that still in darkness prowl : A coward brood which mangle as they ...
Стр. 40
... sleeps with Sleeping Beauties . >> but anon In five facetious acts comes thundering on ** , While poor John Bull , bewildered with the scene , Stares , wondering what the devil it can mean ; 581 * Mr. GREENWOOD is , we believe , Scene ...
... sleeps with Sleeping Beauties . >> but anon In five facetious acts comes thundering on ** , While poor John Bull , bewildered with the scene , Stares , wondering what the devil it can mean ; 581 * Mr. GREENWOOD is , we believe , Scene ...
Стр. 41
... sleep , why John applauds it too . Such are we now , To what our fathers were , unless to mourn ? 591 . Degenerate Britons ! are ye dead to shame , Or , kind to dullness , do you fear to blame ? Well may the nobles of our present race ...
... sleep , why John applauds it too . Such are we now , To what our fathers were , unless to mourn ? 591 . Degenerate Britons ! are ye dead to shame , Or , kind to dullness , do you fear to blame ? Well may the nobles of our present race ...
Стр. 46
... sleep my pen for ever ! and my voice Be only heard to hail him and rejoice ; Rejoice , and yield my feeble praise ; though I May feel the lash that virtue must apply . As for the smaller fry , who swarm in shoals , From silly HAFIZ * up ...
... sleep my pen for ever ! and my voice Be only heard to hail him and rejoice ; Rejoice , and yield my feeble praise ; though I May feel the lash that virtue must apply . As for the smaller fry , who swarm in shoals , From silly HAFIZ * up ...
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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
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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.