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admiration allegorical anapaestic ancient antiquity appear ballads beauty Ben Jonson certainly character Chaucer Chro Chronicle classical comedy Conquest contemporaries doth drama Dryden Elizabeth Ellis England ENGLISH POETRY Erceldoun eyes fable fancy feeling fiction fifteenth Fletcher French genius Gorboduc grace guage hath Henry Henry VIII humour JOHN Jonson Langlande language Latin Layamon's literature Lord Surrey lover manner ment metrical romance Milton mind Mirror for Magistrates modern moral Muse native nature Norman opinion original passion period pieces poem poet poetical prose racter reign of Edward rhyme Ritson Robert of Gloucester romance poetry satire Saxon scenes Scottish seems Shakespeare shew sixteenth century song speak specimen Spenser spirit story style supposed Surrey sweet taste thee thirteenth century THOMAS Thomas the Rhymer thou Tidore tion tragedy translation verse versifier vulgar Warton WILLIAM William of Malmsbury words writers
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.