What people are saying - Write a review
Other editions - View all
admiration ancient appeared appreciation attempt attention Augustan ballad beauty blank verse called Castle certainly Classic Collection contains contemporary copy couplet course critical death early edition eighteenth century English especially Essay evidence expression fact Fairy fashion feeling followed gives Gothic Gray Gray's imagination imitations important influence interesting kind known largely later letter lines literary literature Mallet manner Milton mind nature never observe old English original Ossian passage Percy perhaps pieces poem poet poetic poetry Pope Pope's popular preface printed Prior probably published Queen quoted Ramsay remarks revival Romantic movement Romanticism says seems shows side significance songs sonnet speaks Spenser Spenserian spirit stanza style taste thing Thomson thought took translation true verse volume Walpole Warton whole wild writing written wrote Young
Page 164 - On a rock, whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the poet stood; (Loose his beard and hoary hair Streamed like a meteor to the troubled air;) And with a master's hand and prophet's fire Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre: 'Hark, how each giant oak and desert cave Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!
Page 164 - Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds : Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the moon complain, Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Page 163 - To Contemplation's sober eye Such is the race of Man: And they that creep, and they that fly, Shall end where they began.
Page 120 - D'URFEY'S (" Tom") WIT AND MIRTH ; or, PILLS TO PURGE MELANCHOLY. Being a Collection of the best Merry Ballads and Songs, Old and New. Fitted to all Humours, having each their proper Tune for either Voice or Instrument ; most of the Songs being new set.
Page 179 - Thus the poem first reached the public attention dressed out with Hill's " improvements," which practically destroyed its beauty and strength. They were all made after the pattern of Augustan taste. The next we hear of the ballad is in The Plain Dealer for August 28 of the same year (1724). Hill writes that the poem which he had published on July 24, he had supposed to be the work of some old poet long since dead, but that he had been "agreeably undeceived ; the author of it is alive, and a North...
Page 26 - While through their ranks in silver pride The nether crescent seems to glide. The slumbering breeze forgets to breathe, The lake is smooth and clear beneath, Where once again the spangled show Descends to meet our eyes below. The grounds, which on the right aspire. In dimness from the view retire : The left presents a place of graves, Whose wall the silent water laves. That steeple guides thy doubtful sight Among the livid gleams of night. There pass with melancholy state By all the solemn heaps...
Page 106 - I waked one morning in the beginning of last June from a dream, of which all I could recover was, that I had thought myself in an ancient castle (a very natural dream for a head filled like mine with Gothic story) and that on the uppermost bannister of a great staircase I saw a gigantic hand in armour.
Page 165 - Ere the ruddy sun be set, Pikes must shiver, javelins sing, Blade with clattering buckler meet, Hauberk crash, and helmet ring. (Weave the crimson web of war) Let us go, and let us fly, Where our Friends the conflict share, Where they triumph, where they die. As the paths of fate we tread, Wading thro' th' ensanguin'd field : Gondula, and Geira, spread O'er the youthful King your shield.
Page 150 - Fingal, an Ancient Epic Poem, in Six Books: Together with several other Poems, composed by Ossian, the Son of Fingal.
Page 27 - The seas that roll unnumber'd waves; The wood that spreads its shady leaves; The field whose ears conceal the grain, The yellow treasure of the plain; All of these, and all I see, Should be sung, and sung by me : They speak their maker as they can, But want and ask the tongue of man.