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allegory ancient Anglo-Saxon beautiful Ben Jonson Bishop blank verse called celebrated Celts century character Chaucer chiefly chivalrous Chronicle church classical close Comedy composition critical declension dialect diction didactic drama earliest early ecclesiastical Edinburgh Review eloquence eminent England English language Essays fancy feeling French genius Geoffrey of Monmouth German Grammar honour Iliad illustrated imagination interesting kind king Knight's Tale knowledge language Latin Layamon learned less likewise literary literature living lyrical merit metrical middle ages Milton mind modern moral narrative nation native nature never Norman Conquest novel Old English original passages perhaps period philosophy poems poet poetical poetry popular possessed prose readers reign religious romances satire Saxon Scotland Scottish sentiment Shakspeare Sir Walter Scott specimens Spenser spirit story style taste theological things thought tion tone tongue translation treatise truth verse vigorous words writers written
Página 240 - book; who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image; but he who destroys a good book kills reason itself, kills the image of God, as it were, in the eye. Many a man lives a burden to the earth; but a good book is the precious lifeblood
Página 341 - 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 rang; By forms unseen their dirge is sung: There Honour comes, a pilgrim
Página 279 - boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second
Página 340 - To each his sufferings! All are men, Condemn'd alike to groan; The tender for another's pain, The unfeeling for his own. Yet, ah! why should they know their fate; Since sorrow never conies too late, And happiness too swiftly flies? Thought would destroy their paradise. No more! where ignorance is Bliss, Tis folly to
Página 318 - So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name That once had beauty, titles, wealth and fame. How loved, how honour'd once, avails thee not; To whom related, or by whom begot: A heap of dust alone remains of thee: 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
Página 339 - Her Henry's hoary shade; And ye that from the stately brow Of Windsor's heights the expanse below Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey; Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among Wanders the hoary Thames along His silver-winding way! Ah, happy hills 1 Ah, pleasing shade! Ah, fields beloved in vain! Where once my careless childhood
Página 299 - From a small boat that row'd along, The list'ning winds received this song. " What should we do but sing His praise, That led us through the wat'ry maze Unto an isle so long unknown, And yet far kinder than our own! He gave us this eternal spring, Which here
Página 354 - For him no wretch is born to work and weep, Explore the mine or tempt the dangerous deep: No surly porter stands in guilty state, To spurn imploring Famine from the gate. But on he moves to meet his latter end, Angels around befriending virtue's
Página 356 - Oh, how canst thou renounce the boundless store Of charms which Nature to her votary yields! The warbling woodlands, the resounding shore, All that the genial ray of morning gilds, And all that echoes to the song of even; The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields; All that the mountain's
Página 340 - hope is theirs, by fancy fed, The sunshine of the breast. Theirs buxom health of rosy hue, Wild wit, invention ever new, And lively cheer, of vigour born; The thoughtless day, the easy night, The spirits pure, the slumbers light, That fly the approach of morn.