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have opposed it to the diffuseness and conventional phraseology of“ novels in verse.”
“Places which pale passion loves.”— Beaumont, while writing this verse, perhaps the finest in the poem, probably had in his memory that of Marlowe, in his description of Tamburlaine.
Pale of complexion, wrought in him with passion.
A SATYR PRESENTS A BASKET OF FRUIT TO THE
Here be grapes whose lusty blood
I freely offer; and ere long
Swifter than the fiery sun. 36 Some be red, some be green.”—This verse calls to mind a beautiful one of Chaucer, in his description of a grove in spring :
In which were oakès great, straight as a line,
The Flower and the Leaf. Coleridge was fond of repeating it.
4 " That sleeping lies,” &c.—Pan was not to be waked too soon with impunity.
Ου θεμις, ω ποιμαν, το μεσαμβρινον, ου θεμις αμμιν
Theocritus Idyll, i. v. 16.
No, shepherd, no; we must not pipe at noon :
What a true picture of the half-goat divinity!
A SPOT FOR LOVE TALES.
Here be all new delights, cool streains and wells ;
See, the day begins to break,
I have departed from my plan for once, to introduce this very small extract, partly for the sake of its beauty, partly to show the student that great poets do not confine their pleasant descriptions to images or feelings pleasing in the commoner sense of the word, but include such as, while seeming to contradict, harmonize with them, upon principles of truth, and of a genial and strenuous sympathy. The “subtle streak of fire” is obviously beautiful, but the addition of the cold wind is a truth welcome to those only who have strength as well as delicacy of apprehension, or rather, that healthy delicacy which arises from the strength. Sweet and wholesome, and to be welcomed, is the chill breath of morning. There is a fine epithet for this kind of dawn in the elder Marston's Antonio and Melida :
Is not yon gleam the shuddering morn, that flakes
THE POWER OF LOVE.
Hear, ye ladies that despise
What the mighty Love has done;
Fair Calisto was a nun;
To deceive the hopes of man,
Doted on a silver swan;
Hear, ye ladies that are coy,
What the mighty Love can do.
The chaste moon he makes to woo :
Vesta, kindling holy fires,
Circled round about with spies,
Doting at the altar dies ;
5“ Where no love was.”—See how extremes meet, and passion writes as conceit does, in these repetitions of a word:
Where no love was, lov'd a shower. So, still more emphatically, in the instance afterwards :
Fear the fierceness of the boythan which nothing can be finer. Wonder and earnestness conspire to stamp the iteration of the sound.
INVOCATION TO SLEEP.
Sung to Music; the EMPEROR VALENTINIAN sitting by, sick,
in a chair.
Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes,-