The Essentials of Ăsthetics in Music, Poetry, Painting, Sculpture and Architecture

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G. P. Putnam's sons, 1906 - Aesthetics - 404 pages
 

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Page 30 - The sound must seem an echo to the sense : Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar : When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow ; Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.
Page 198 - I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he ; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three ; " Good speed ! " cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew; " Speed ! " echoed the wall to us galloping through ; Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, And into the midnight we galloped abreast. Not a word to each other ; we kept the great pace Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing...
Page 271 - Why should that name be sounded more than yours? Write them together: yours is as fair a name: Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well. Weigh them, it is as heavy: conjure with 'em, 'Brutus' will start a spirit as soon as 'Caesar'.
Page 184 - Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous ; and we fools of nature So horridly to shake our disposition With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls ? Say, why is this ? wherefore ? what should we do ? Ghost beckons HAMLET.
Page 208 - ... purpose waste in air : So waste not thou ; but come ; for all the vales Await thee; azure pillars of the hearth Arise to thee ; the children call, and I Thy shepherd pipe, and sweet is every sound, Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet; Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn, The moan of doves in immemorial elms, And murmuring of innumerable bees.
Page 295 - Took the face-cloth from the face; Yet she neither moved nor wept. Rose a nurse of ninety years, Set his child upon her knee — Like summer tempest came her tears — " Sweet my child, I live for thee.
Page 183 - As full of spirit as the month of May, And gorgeous as the sun at Midsummer ; Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls. I saw young Harry, — with his beaver on, His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd, Rise from the ground, like feather'd Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his seat, As if an angel dropt down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship.
Page 191 - The western wind was wild and dank wi' foam, And all alone went she. The creeping tide came up along the sand. And o'er and o'er the sand, And round and round the sand, As far as eye could see; The blinding mist came down and hid the land — And never home came she. "Oh, is it weed, or fish, 'or floating hair — A tress o...
Page 180 - He, above the rest In shape and gesture proudly eminent, Stood like a tower. His form had yet not lost All her original brightness, nor appeared Less than archangel ruined, and the excess Of glory obscured...
Page 54 - There I beheld the emblem of a mind That feeds upon infinity, that broods Over the dark abyss, intent to hear Its voices issuing forth to silent light In one continuous stream...

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