List of authors. Essay on English poetry. General index (Google eBook)

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Thomas Campbell
J. Murray, 1819 - English poetry
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Page 267 - What modes of sight betwixt each wide extreme, The mole's dim curtain, and the lynx's beam: Of smell, the headlong lioness between, And hound sagacious on the tainted green: Of hearing, from the life that fills the flood, To that which warbles thro' the vernal wood: The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine!
Page 265 - Farewell the tranquil mind ! Farewell content ! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell ! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner ; and all quality. Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war ! And O, you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone ! lago.
Page 267 - Or in proud falls magnificently lost, But clear and artless, pouring" through the plain Health to the sick, and solace to the swain. Whose causeway parts the vale with shady rows? Whose seats the weary traveller repose ? Who taught that Heav'n-directed spire to rise? " The Man of Ross,
Page 221 - Do my face (If thou had'st ever feeling of a sorrow) Thus, thus, Antiphila : strive to make me look Like Sorrow's monument ; and the trees about me, Let them be dry and leafless ; let the rocks Groan with continual surges ; and behind me, Make all a desolation.
Page 268 - So Zembla's rocks (the beauteous work of frost) Rise white in air, and glitter o'er the coast ; Pale suns, unfelt, at distance roll away, And on th' impassive ice the lightnings play ; Eternal snows the growing mass supply, Till the bright mountains prop th' incumbent sky ; As Atlas fix'd, each hoary pile appears, The gather'd winter of a thousand years.
Page 244 - Anon they move In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood Of flutes and soft recorders...
Page 35 - THOUGH some make slight of libels, yet you may see by them how the wind sits : as take a straw and throw it up into the air, you shall see by that which way the wind is, which you shall not do by casting up a stone. More solid things do not show the complexion of the times so well as ballads and libels.
Page 231 - When our souls shall leave this dwelling, The glory of one fair and virtuous action Is above all the scutcheons on our tomb, Or silken banners over us.
Page 235 - E'en death to die for thee. Thou art my life, my love, my heart, The very eyes of me: And hast command of every part, To live and die for thee.
Page 142 - Struck with the accents of archangels' tunes, Wrought not more pleasure to her husband's thoughts, Than this fair woman's words and notes to mine. May that sweet plain that bears her pleasant weight, Be still...

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