The Beauties of Modern Literature, in Verse and Prose: To which is Prefixed, a Preliminary View of the Literature of the Age

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Sherwood, Jones, and Company, 1824 - 484 pages
The preliminary view is chiefly a comparison of classical and romantic poetry.
 

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Page xviii - Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries, See the Furies arise! See the snakes that they rear How they hiss in their hair, And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!
Page xviii - Now strike the golden lyre again: A louder yet, and yet a louder strain ! Break his bands of sleep asunder And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark, hark ! the horrid sound Has raised up his head : As awaked from the dead, And amazed he stares around. Revenge, revenge...
Page 245 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove : O no ; it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests, and is never shaken ; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Page 128 - ALL worldly shapes shall melt in gloom, The Sun himself must die, Before this mortal shall assume Its immortality ! I saw a vision in my sleep, That gave my spirit strength to sweep Adown the gulf of Time ! I...
Page 480 - I have lived long enough : my way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends...
Page 130 - I am weary in yon skies To watch thy fading fire; Test of all sumless agonies, Behold not me expire. My lips, that speak thy dirge of death, Their rounded gasp and gurgling breath To see thou shalt not boast. The eclipse of Nature spreads my pall, The majesty of darkness shall Receive my parting ghost!
Page 129 - Tis mercy bids thee go : For thou ten thousand thousand years Hast seen the tide of human tears, That shall no longer flow.
Page 245 - O, no ! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Page 50 - The lark, his lay who thrill'd all day, Sits hush'd his partner nigh ; Breeze, bird, and flower, confess the hour, But where is County Guy ? " The village maid steals through the shade, Her shepherd's suit to hear ; To beauty shy, by lattice high, Sings high-born Cavalier.
Page xxix - Humble and rustic life was generally chosen because in that condition the essential passions of the heart find a better soil in which they can attain their maturity, are less under restraint, and speak a plainer and more emphatic language...

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