A History of Eighteenth Century Literature (1660-1780)

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Macmillan, 1924 - 415 páginas
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Página 233 - How sleep the Brave who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there!
Página 125 - In vain ! they gaze, turn giddy, rave and die. Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires, And unawares Morality expires. Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine; Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse Divine; Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restor'd; Light dies before thy uncreating word: Thy hand, great Anarch ! lets the curtain fall ; And universal Darkness buries All.
Página 289 - Is not a Patron, my Lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water and, when he has reached ground, encumbers him with help...
Página 289 - Seven years, My Lord, have now passed since I waited in your outward rooms or was repulsed from your door, during which time I have been pushing on my work through difficulties of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it at last to the verge of publication without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement or one smile of favour.
Página 129 - Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad, In puns or politics or tales or lies Or spite or smut or rhymes or blasphemies ; His wit all seesaw between that and this, Now high, now low, now master up, now miss, And he himself one vile antithesis.
Página 60 - A man so various that he seemed to be Not one, but all mankind's epitome : Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, Was everything by starts and nothing long; But in the course of one revolving moon Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon ; Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.
Página 230 - Whom still I hold, but cannot see, My company before is gone, And I am left alone with Thee; With Thee all night I mean to stay, And wrestle till the break of day.
Página 327 - What time the daisy decks the green, Thy certain voice we hear; Hast thou a star to guide thy path, Or mark the rolling year ? Delightful visitant! with thee I hail the time of flowers, And hear the sound of music sweet From birds among the bowers.
Página 223 - ... thence The fair profusion that o'erspreads the Spring, Flings from the sun direct the flaming day, Feeds every creature, hurls the tempest forth, And, as on earth this grateful change revolves, With transport touches all the springs of life. Nature, attend ! join, every living soul Beneath the spacious temple of the sky, In adoration join; and ardent raise One general song...
Página 322 - But peace to his spirit, wherever it flies, To act as an angel and mix with the skies : Those poets, who owe their best fame to his skill, Shall still be his flatterers, go where he will ; Old Shakespeare receive him with praise and with love, And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys above.

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