The English Poets: Selections with Critical IntroductionsThomas Humphry Ward Macmillan, 1895 - English poetry |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 84
Page 1
... poet to celebrate in an adequate manner the victory of Blenheim , Halifax directed him to Addison , who in answer to the Treasurer's application produced The Campaign , and obtained as a reward the post of Under - Secretary of State ...
... poet to celebrate in an adequate manner the victory of Blenheim , Halifax directed him to Addison , who in answer to the Treasurer's application produced The Campaign , and obtained as a reward the post of Under - Secretary of State ...
Page 6
... poet who has since his death been solely immortalised by the praise of Pope . The lines of the latter , written in 1709 , are familiar to most readers , but may be quoted here : To him the wit of Greece and Rome was known , And every ...
... poet who has since his death been solely immortalised by the praise of Pope . The lines of the latter , written in 1709 , are familiar to most readers , but may be quoted here : To him the wit of Greece and Rome was known , And every ...
Page 21
... poet . Then too , alas ! when she shall tear The lines some younger rival sends ; She'll give me leave to write , I fear , And we shall still continue friends . For , as our different ages move , ' Tis so ordained , ( would Fate but ...
... poet . Then too , alas ! when she shall tear The lines some younger rival sends ; She'll give me leave to write , I fear , And we shall still continue friends . For , as our different ages move , ' Tis so ordained , ( would Fate but ...
Page 25
... poet sublimer than me . A SIMILE . Dear Thomas , did'st thou never pop Thy head into a tin - man's shop ? There , Thomas , did'st thou never see ( ' Tis but by way of Simile ! ) A squirrel spend his little rage , In jumping round a ...
... poet sublimer than me . A SIMILE . Dear Thomas , did'st thou never pop Thy head into a tin - man's shop ? There , Thomas , did'st thou never see ( ' Tis but by way of Simile ! ) A squirrel spend his little rage , In jumping round a ...
Page 26
... poet is a fool : By demonstration Ned can show it : Happy , could Ned's inverted rule Prove every fool to be a poet . FOR MY OWN TOMB - STONE . To me ' twas given to die : to thee ' tis given To live alas ! one moment sets us even ...
... poet is a fool : By demonstration Ned can show it : Happy , could Ned's inverted rule Prove every fool to be a poet . FOR MY OWN TOMB - STONE . To me ' twas given to die : to thee ' tis given To live alas ! one moment sets us even ...
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Common terms and phrases
40 cents admiration Ambrose Philips beauty beneath blest born breast breath Burns charm Chatterton criticism dear death delight Dryden Dunciad Eclogues Edited English Classics Series English poetry Epistle Essay Ev'n ev'ry eyes F. T. PALGRAVE fair fame fate fool frae genius GEORGE SAINTSBURY grace grave Gray Grongar Hill hand happy hear heart heaven King labour literary live Lord Lord Hervey lyre Macmillan's English Classics mind moral muse nature ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er once pain passion Pindaric pleasure poem poet poetical poetry Pope Pope's praise pride prose rhyme round satire sense shade shine sing smile song soul spirit Spleen sweet Swift taste tell thee things thou thought thro toil trembling truth Twas verse virtue W. W. SKEAT Whig wind write youth
Popular passages
Page 331 - Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke ; How jocund did they drive their team afield! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Page 287 - 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.
Page 535 - Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays: Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing," That thus they all shall meet in future days: There, ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear; While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere...
Page 262 - Other refuge have I none — Hangs my helpless soul on Thee : Leave, ah ! leave me not alone, Still support and comfort me ! , All my trust on Thee is stay'd, All my help from Thee I bring: Cover my defenceless head With the shadow of thy wing.
Page 604 - Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: "Pipe a song about a Lamb!' So I piped with merry cheer. 'Piper, pipe that song again;
Page 532 - November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ; The short'ning winter-day is near a close ; The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh ; The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose : The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes, This night his weekly moil is at an end, Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; Th' expectant...
Page 464 - Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups That cheer but not inebriate wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
Page 90 - Lives through all life, extends through all extent, Spreads undivided, operates unspent: Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart; As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns, As the rapt seraph that adores and burns: To him no high, no low, no great, no small; He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.
Page 561 - I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee! Who shall say that Fortune grieves him While the star of hope she leaves him? Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me, Dark despair around benights me.
Page 288 - O'erhang his wavy bed: Now air is hush'd, save where the weak-eyed bat With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn, As oft he rises, 'midst the twilight path Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum...