Literary Criticism for Students

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Edward Tompkins McLaughlin
H. Holt, 1893 - 236 páginas
 

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Página 46 - ... the primary laws of our nature: chiefly, as far as regards the manner in which we associate ideas in a state of excitement.
Página vii - Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous, and we fools of nature, So horridly to shake our disposition, With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls ? Say, why is this ? wherefore ? what should we do ? [Ghost beckons HAMLET.
Página 135 - The moon shines bright : — In such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, And they did make no noise ; in such a night, Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls, And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents, Where Cressid lay that night.
Página 86 - It may be safely affirmed that there neither is, nor can be, any essential difference between the language of prose and metrical composition.
Página 213 - From their immortal flowers of poesy, Wherein, as in a mirror, we perceive The highest reaches of a human wit; If these had made one poem's period, And all...
Página 80 - And the sad augurs mock their own presage ; Incertainties now crown themselves assured And peace proclaims olives of endless age. Now with the drops of this most balmy time My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes, Since, spite of him, I '11 live in this poor rhyme, "While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes : And thou in this shalt find thy monument, When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent CVIII.
Página 7 - ... upon themselves care and industry; they did nothing rashly: they obtained first to write well, and then custom made it easy and a habit.
Página 162 - Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again!
Página 51 - Phoebus lifts his golden fire: The birds in vain their amorous descant join, Or cheerful fields resume their green attire. These ears, alas! for other notes repine; A different object do these eyes require; My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine; And in my breast the imperfect joys expire; Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer, And new-born pleasure brings to happier men; The fields to all their wonted tribute bear; To warm their little loves the birds complain. I fruitless mourn to him that...
Página 81 - With this he breaketh from the sweet embrace Of those fair arms which bound him to her breast, And homeward through the dark laund runs apace; Leaves Love upon her back, deeply distress'd. Look how a bright star shooteth from the sky, So glides he in the night from Venus...

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