Dramas: Tragic, Comic, and Legendary

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C. Dolman, 1853
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Page x - For I will for no man's pleasure, Change a syllable or measure. Pedants shall not tie my strains To our antique poets' veins ; Being born as free as these, I will sing as I shall please.
Page 314 - Flores nocturnas son, aunque tan bellas, efímeras padecen sus ardores; pues si un día es el siglo de las flores, una noche es la edad de las estrellas. De esa, pues, primavera fugitiva ya nuestro mal, ya nuestro bien se infiere: registro es nuestro, o muera el Sol o viva.
Page 314 - Estas, que fueron pompa y alegría Despertando al albor de la mañana, A la tarde serán lástima vana, Durmiendo en brazos de la noche fría. Este matiz, que al cielo desafía, Iris listado de oro, nieve y grana, Será escarmiento de la vida humana: ¡Tanto se emprende en término de un día!
Page xiii - ... everchanging peals of harmonious chimes,* is an attempt which no writer, however eminent, could despise ; and which one of our humble pretensions would absolutely shrink from making, but for the wonderful fascination and pleasure of the employment. To translate Calderon — to clothe, in English words, his poetry — which, as Schlegel truly says, " whatever the subject may ostensibly be, is an unceasing hymn of joy on the splendours of creation," seems to awaken all the glow and rapture —...
Page 75 - Art thou a diamond? then by Thy own dust make deadliest poison, Weary thyself out in wrath : but I, Though I suffer greater torments, Though I greater rigours see, Though I weep still greater anguish, Though I go through more misery, Though I experience more misfortunes, Though I more hunger must endure, Though my poor body have no covering But these few rags; and this impure Dungeon be still my only dwelling, All for the faith my soul derides; For it is the sun that lights me, For it is the star...
Page 18 - BRITO. Thanks be to God! that April and sweet May Once more I walk on, and that, as I like, Without unpleasant reelings and dismay I go about upon the solid ground. Not as just now at sea, when, yea or nay, Within a wooden monster's caverns bound, Though light of foot I could not get away Even when in greatest fear of being drown'd. So little weary of the world am I, 0 dry land, mine!
Page vii - I am sorry to hear that you have employed yourself in translating the Aminta, though I doubt not it will be a just and beautiful translation. You ought to write Amintas. You ought to exercise your fancy in the perpetual creation of new forms of gentleness and beauty.
Page vii - With respect to translation, even / will not be seduced by it ; although the Greek plays, and some of the ideal dramas of Calderon, (with which 1 have lately, and with inexpressible wonder and delight, become acquainted) are perpetually tempting me to throw over their perfect and glowing forms the grey veil of my own words.
Page 50 - Moors, a slave to you remains ; Captives, you have a companion, Who to-day doth share your pains : Heaven, a man restores your churches Back to holy calm and peace ; Sea, a wretch remains, with weeping All your billows to increase ; Mountains, on ye dwells a mourner Like the wild beasts soon to grow ; Wind, a poor man with his sighing Doubleth all that thou canst blow ; Earth, a corse within thy entrails Comes to-day to lay his bones.

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