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A Criticism on the Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard
John] 1750?-1820 [Young
No preview available - 2016
Abbot admiration Antiquary appear author of Marmion author of Waverley beautiful Black Dwarf Bridal of Triermain Bride of Lammermoor Canto castle character circumstances composition criticism dark death Deloraine Douglas Elegy written expression fancy favourite feeling flame Glossin Graeme Gray Guy Mannering hand Harold the Dauntless Heart of Mid Heart of Mid-Lothian hero honour Ibid images imagination instances Isles Ivanhoe Jeanie Jedediah Cleishbotham Kenilworth labour Lady Lake Landlord Last Minstrel Legend of Montrose Letters light Loch Katrine Lord Mid Lothian mind Monastery narrative natural night novels o'er observation Old Mortality passage peculiar person personage Petrarch poems poetical poetry praise prose racter remarkable resemblance Risingham Rob Roy Roderick Rokeby romantic says scarcely scene seems sound spirit stanza story style supposed tale taste thou thought tion tower verse wild writers
Page 54 - Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault, The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Page 9 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his favorite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; "The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Page 4 - Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death?
Page 8 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Page 1 - ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD / THE CURFEW tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Page 104 - Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace. With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost.
Page 2 - The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed...
Page 7 - E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance, by lonely Contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, — Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn...