Specimens of the British Critics

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Carey and Hart, 1846 - 344 pàgines
 

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Pàgina 299 - Nor public flame, nor private dares to shine; Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine Lo, thy dread empire, Chaos ! is restored; Light dies before thy uncreating word : Thy hand, great Anarch, lets the curtain fall, And universal darkness buries all.
Pàgina 99 - First follow Nature, and your judgment frame By her just standard, which is still the same: Unerring Nature! still divinely bright, One clear, unchang'd, and universal light, Life, force, and beauty, must to all impart, At once the source, and end, and test of art. Art from that fund each just supply provides; Works without show, and without pomp presides : In some fair body thus th...
Pàgina 57 - You are my true and honourable wife ; As dear to me as are the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart.
Pàgina 57 - This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air : thence I have follow'd it, Or it hath drawn me rather.
Pàgina 102 - Who haunt Parnassus but to please their ear, Not mend their minds; as some to church repair, Not for the doctrine, but the music there. These equal syllables alone require, Tho...
Pàgina 189 - He must have been a man of a most wonderful comprehensive nature, because, as it has been truly observed of him, he has taken into the compass of his " Canterbury Tales " the various manners and humours (as we now call them) of the whole English nation, in his age. Not a single character has escaped him.
Pàgina 267 - So spake the Son : but Satan, with his Powers, Far was advanced on winged speed : an host Innumerable as the stars of night; Or stars of morning, dew-drops, which the sun Impearls on every leaf and every flower.
Pàgina 101 - Tis more to guide than spur the Muse's steed, Restrain his fury than provoke his speed : The winged courser, like a generous horse, Shows most true mettle when you check his course.
Pàgina 70 - O thou, that, with surpassing glory crown'd, Look'st from thy sole dominion, like the god Of this new world ; at whose sight all the stars Hide their diminish'd heads ; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name, 0 sun ! to tell thee how I hate thy beams, That bring to my remembrance from what state 1 fell, how glorious once above thy sphere...
Pàgina 37 - But he is always great, when some great occasion is presented to him : no man can say he ever had a fit subject for his wit, and did not then raise himself as high above the rest of poets " Quantum lenta solent inter viburna cupressi.

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