The Works of the British Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, Volume 12

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J. & A. Arch, 1795 - English poetry
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Page 115 - Here sacred pomp and genial feast delight, And solemn dance, and hymeneal rite ; Along the street the new-made brides are led, With torches flaming, to the nuptial bed : The youthful dancers in a circle bound To the soft flute, and cittern's silver sound : Through the fair streets, the matrons in a row Stand in their porches, and enjoy the show.
Page 413 - All were attentive to the godlike man, When from his lofty couch he thus began: 'Great queen, what you command me to relate, Renews the sad remembrance of our fate: An empire from its old foundations rent, And...
Page iv - This is a field in which no succeeding poets could dispute with Homer; and whatever commendations have been allowed them on this head, are by no means for their invention in having enlarged his circle, but for their judgment in having contracted it. For when the mode of learning changed in...
Page x - That the Earl of Halifax was one of the first to favour me ; of whom it is hard to say whether the advancement of the polite arts is more owing to his generosity or his example...
Page 37 - Behold the mighty Hector's wife! Some haughty Greek, who lives thy tears to see, Embitters all thy woes by naming me. The thoughts of glory past, and present shame A thousand griefs shall waken at the name. May I lie cold before that dreadful day, Press'd with a load of monumental clay! Thy Hector, wrapt in everlasting sleep, Shall neither hear thee sigh, nor see thee weep.
Page vi - We ought to have a certain knowledge of the principal character and distinguishing excellence of each: it is in that we are to consider him, and in proportion to his degree in that we are to admire him. No author or man...
Page 227 - Now wasting years my former strength confound, And added woes have bow'd me to the ground: Yet by the stubble you may guess the grain, And mark the ruins of no vulgar man.
Page 126 - Talk not of life, or ransom (he replies): Patroclus dead, whoever meets me, dies: In vain a single Trojan sues for grace; But least, the sons of Priam's hateful race. Die then, my friend! what boots it to deplore? The great, the good Patroclus is no more! He, far thy better, was foredoom'd to die, And thou, dost thou bewail mortality?
Page 383 - By this it is probable that Homer lived when the Median monarchy was grown formidable to the Grecians, and that the joint endeavours of his countrymen were little enough to preserve their common freedom from an encroaching enemy. Such was his moral, which all...

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