On the Art of Writing

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G. P. Putnam's sons; [etc., etc.[, 1916 - Authorship - 302 pages
 

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Page 235 - The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
Page 19 - The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike th
Page 172 - And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings.
Page 62 - O, for a muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention ! A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, And monarchs to behold the swelling scene...
Page 50 - Townsfolk my strength ; a daintier judge applies His praise to sleight, which from good use doth rise ; Some lucky wits impute it but to chance ; Others, because of both sides I do take My blood from them, who did excel in this, Think Nature me a man of arms did make. How far they shot awry ! the true cause is, STELLA looked on, and from her heavenly face Sent forth the beams which made so fair my race.
Page 123 - Nothing worse happens to you than does to all nations who have extensive empire; and it happens in all the forms into which empire can be thrown. In large bodies the circulation of power must be less vigorous at the extremities. Nature has said it. The Turk cannot govern Egypt, and Arabia, and...
Page 120 - It lies not in our power to love, or hate, For will in us is overruled by fate. When two are stript, long ere the course begin, We wish that one should lose, the other win; And one especially do we affect Of two gold ingots, like in each respect. The reason no man knows; let it suffice, What we behold is censured by our eyes.
Page 133 - ... and thou were the kindest man that ever struck with sword ; and thou were the goodliest person that ever came among press of knights ; and thou were the meekest man and the gentlest that ever ate in hall among ladies ; and thou were the sternest knight to thy mortal foe that ever put spear in the rest.
Page 75 - Thus with the year Seasons return; but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine...
Page 154 - Truly, good Christian reader, we never thought from the beginning that we should need to make a new translation, nor yet to make of a bad one a good one...

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