Lessons in Criticism to William Roscoe, Esq;, F.R.S., Member of the Della Crusca Society of Florence, F.R.S.L.: In Answer to His Letter to the Reverend W.L. Bowles on the Character and Poetry of Pope ; with Further Lessons in Criticism to a Quarterly Reviewer

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Hurst, Robinson, 1826 - 175 páginas
 

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Página 35 - Of spacious meads with cattle sprinkled o'er, Conducts the eye along his sinuous course Delighted. There, fast rooted in their bank, Stand, never overlooked, our favourite elms, That screen the herdsman's solitary hut; While far beyond, and overthwart the stream, That, as with molten glass, inlays the vale, The sloping land recedes into the clouds...
Página 88 - What though my name stood rubric on the walls, Or plaster'd posts, with claps, in capitals ? Or smoking forth, a hundred hawkers' load, On wings of winds came flying all abroad ' I sought no homage from the race that write ; I kept, like Asian monarchs, from their sight ; Poems I heeded (now berhym'd so long) No more than thou, great George.
Página 35 - The sloping land recedes into the clouds; Displaying on its varied side the grace Of hedge-row beauties numberless, square tower, Tall spire, from which the sound of cheerful bells Just undulates upon the listening ear; Groves, heaths, and smoking villages remote.
Página 79 - Till grown more frugal in his riper days, He paid some bards with port, and some with praise ; To some a dry rehearsal was assign'd, And others (harder still) he paid in kind.
Página 143 - Some feelings are to mortals given, With less of earth in them than heaven ; And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek, It would not stain an angel's cheek, 'Tis that which pious fathers shed Upon a duteous daughter's head...
Página 79 - d by every quill : Fed with soft dedication all day long, Horace and he went hand in hand in song.
Página 63 - I will not ask sad Pity to deplore His wayward errors, who thus early died; Still less, CHILDE HAROLD, now thou art no more, Will I say aught of genius misapplied; Of the past shadows of thy spleen or pride: — But I will bid th' Arcadian cypress wave, Pluck the green laurel from Peneus' side, And pray thy spirit may such quiet have, That not one thought unkind be murmur'd o'er thy grave.
Página 120 - Pretty ! in amber to observe the forms Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms ! The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare, But wonder how the devil they got there.
Página 64 - Pindus' piny shades profound ; But strew some flowers upon thy sable pall, And follow to the grave a Briton's funeral. Slow move the plumed hearse, the mourning train ; I mark the long procession with a sigh, Silently passing to that village fane Where, Harold, thy forefathers mouldering lie; — Where sleeps...
Página 63 - But a Spectre, at his side, Stood mocking; — and its dart, uplifting high, Smote him; — he sank to earth in life's fair pride: SPARTA! thy rocks then heard another cry, And old Ilissus sigh'd — 'Die, generous exile, die!

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