The Writings of James Russell Lowell: Literary essaysHoughton, Mifflin and Company, 1890 |
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Сторінка 5
... In reading Hakluyt's Voyages , we are almost startled now and then to find that even common sailors could not tell the story of their - wanderings without rising to an almost Odyssean strain and SHAKESPEARE ONCE MORE 5.
... In reading Hakluyt's Voyages , we are almost startled now and then to find that even common sailors could not tell the story of their - wanderings without rising to an almost Odyssean strain and SHAKESPEARE ONCE MORE 5.
Сторінка 9
... tell us , accordingly , 1 " Vulgarem locutionem anpellamus eam qua infantes adsue- fiunt ab adsistentibus cum primitus distinguere voces incipiunt : vel , quod brevius dici potest , vulgarem locutionem asserimus quam sine omni regula ...
... tell us , accordingly , 1 " Vulgarem locutionem anpellamus eam qua infantes adsue- fiunt ab adsistentibus cum primitus distinguere voces incipiunt : vel , quod brevius dici potest , vulgarem locutionem asserimus quam sine omni regula ...
Сторінка 14
... tell why the month of July was so called than could explain the origin of the names for our days of the week , and that it is oftener the Saxon than the French words in Chaucer that puzzle the modern reader . - — speech . It is not safe ...
... tell why the month of July was so called than could explain the origin of the names for our days of the week , and that it is oftener the Saxon than the French words in Chaucer that puzzle the modern reader . - — speech . It is not safe ...
Сторінка 15
... tell him what word to use ( else what use in his being poet at all ? ) ; and even then , unless the proportion and form , whether of parts or whole , be all that Art requires and the most sensitive taste finds satis- faction in , he ...
... tell him what word to use ( else what use in his being poet at all ? ) ; and even then , unless the proportion and form , whether of parts or whole , be all that Art requires and the most sensitive taste finds satis- faction in , he ...
Сторінка 36
... That every word doth almost tell his name . " And yet who has so succeeded in imitating him as to remind us of him by even so much as the gait of a single verse ? 1 Those magnificent crystallizations of feeling 36 SHAKESPEARE ONCE MORE.
... That every word doth almost tell his name . " And yet who has so succeeded in imitating him as to remind us of him by even so much as the gait of a single verse ? 1 Those magnificent crystallizations of feeling 36 SHAKESPEARE ONCE MORE.
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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 plain play poem poet poetic poetry Pope Preface prose Provençal rhyme Rutebeuf satire says seems sense sentiment Shake Shakespeare snow sometimes soul speak style sure sweet 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 300 - When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme, 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.
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 300 - 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 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 171 - Thou hast what's left of me; For I am now so sunk from what I was, Thou find'st me at my lowest water-mark. The rivers that ran in, and raised my fortunes, Are all dried up, or take another course: What I have left is from my native spring; I've still a heart that swells, in scorn of fate, And lifts me to my banks.
Сторінка 74 - I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers Could not with all their quantity of love, Make up my sum.