Literary Essays: Shakespeare once moreHoughton, Mifflin, 1890 |
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Сторінка 43
... birds sang . " Or again : " From thee have I been absent in the spring , When proud - pied April , dressed in all his trim , Hath put a spirit of youth in everything , That heavy Saturn leaped and laughed with him . " But as dramatic ...
... birds sang . " Or again : " From thee have I been absent in the spring , When proud - pied April , dressed in all his trim , Hath put a spirit of youth in everything , That heavy Saturn leaped and laughed with him . " But as dramatic ...
Сторінка 44
... bird as of her own premeditated murder , and we are thus made her shuddering accomplices before the fact . Every image receives the color of the mind , every word throbs with the pulse of one controlling pas- sion . The epithet fatal ...
... bird as of her own premeditated murder , and we are thus made her shuddering accomplices before the fact . Every image receives the color of the mind , every word throbs with the pulse of one controlling pas- sion . The epithet fatal ...
Сторінка 45
... bird Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle . " The contrast here cannot but be as intentional as it is marked . Every image is one of welcome , security , and confidence . The summer , one may well fancy , would be a very ...
... bird Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle . " The contrast here cannot but be as intentional as it is marked . Every image is one of welcome , security , and confidence . The summer , one may well fancy , would be a very ...
Сторінка 121
... bird was beaten back by the loud sigh- ings of an eastern wind , and his motion made irreg- ular and inconstant , descending more at every breath of the tempest than it could recover by the libration and frequent weighing of his wings ...
... bird was beaten back by the loud sigh- ings of an eastern wind , and his motion made irreg- ular and inconstant , descending more at every breath of the tempest than it could recover by the libration and frequent weighing of his wings ...
Сторінка 122
... bird itself , " In profuse strains of unpremeditated art . " Let us now take a specimen of Dryden's bad prose from one of his poems . I open the " Annus Mira- bilis " at random , and hit upon this : " Our little fleet was now engaged so ...
... bird itself , " In profuse strains of unpremeditated art . " Let us now take a specimen of Dryden's bad prose from one of his poems . I open the " Annus Mira- bilis " at random , and hit upon this : " Our little fleet was now engaged so ...
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Загальні терміни та фрази
æsthetic artist Aurengzebe beauty Ben Jonson better birds blank verse called Canterbury Tales character charm Châteaubriand Chaucer Coleridge conscious criticism Dante delightful doubt Dryden easy English epical poetry expression familiar fancy feeling force French genius give Goethe Greek Hamlet hint ideal imagination John Dryden Jonson judgment kind language Latin less literary literature living look Macbeth Marie de France meaning ment metrist Milton mind modern Molière moral nation never numbers once original Ovid passage passion perhaps phrase Piers Ploughman play poem poet poetic poetry Pope Preface prose Provençal rhyme Rutebeuf satire says seems sense sentiment Shake Shakespeare sing snow sometimes soul speak style sure tells thing thou thought tion tragedy Trouvères true truth ture versification Voltaire vulgar whole wholly winter words Wordsworth writing wrote
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Сторінка 45 - This castle hath a pleasant seat ; the air Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself Unto our gentle senses. BAN. This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve By his loved mansionry that the heaven's breath Smells wooingly here : no jutty, frieze, Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle : Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed The air is delicate.
Сторінка 109 - The lonely mountains o'er and the resounding shore a voice of weeping heard and loud lament ; from haunted spring and dale edged with poplar pale the parting Genius is with sighing sent; with flower-inwoven tresses torn the nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
Сторінка 78 - If to do were as easy as to know what were^ good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions: I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching.
Сторінка 270 - Shortening his journey between morn and noon, And hurrying him, impatient of his stay, Down to the rosy west ; but kindly still Compensating his loss with added hours Of social converse and instructive ease, And...
Сторінка 302 - In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights ; Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have express'd Even such a beauty as you master now. So all their praises are but prophecies Of this our time, all you prefiguring...
Сторінка 177 - ... it was intended was too witty to resent it as an injury. If I had railed, I might have suffered for it justly; but I managed my own work more happily, perhaps more dexterously.
Сторінка 121 - For so have I seen a lark rising from his bed of grass, and soaring upwards, singing as he rises, and hopes to get to heaven, and climb above the clouds ; but the poor bird was beaten back with the loud sighings of an eastern wind, and his motion made irregular and inconstant, descending more at every breath of the tempest, than it could recover by the...
Сторінка 106 - Oxford to him a dearer name shall be, Than his own mother university. Thebes did his green, unknowing youth engage; He chooses Athens in his riper age.
Сторінка 43 - When proud-pied April dressed in all his trim Hath put a spirit of youth in everything', That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him. Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew; Nor did I wonder at the...
Сторінка 74 - I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers Could not with all their quantity of love, Make up my sum.