Specimens of the British Critics

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Carey and Hart, 1846 - Criticism - 344 pages
 

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Page 301 - Nor public flame, nor private dares to shine; Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine Lo, thy dread empire, Chaos ! is restored; Light dies before thy uncreating word : Thy hand, great Anarch, lets the curtain fall, And universal darkness buries all.
Page 101 - First follow Nature, and your judgment frame By her just standard, which is still the same: Unerring Nature! still divinely bright, One clear, unchang'd, and universal light, Life, force, and beauty, must to all impart, At once the source, and end, and test of art. Art from that fund each just supply provides; Works without show, and without pomp presides : In some fair body thus th...
Page 59 - You are my true and honourable wife ; As dear to me as are the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart.
Page 59 - This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air : thence I have follow'd it, Or it hath drawn me rather.
Page 104 - Who haunt Parnassus but to please their ear, Not mend their minds; as some to church repair, Not for the doctrine, but the music there. These equal syllables alone require, Tho...
Page 191 - He must have been a man of a most wonderful comprehensive nature, because, as it has been truly observed of him, he has taken into the compass of his " Canterbury Tales " the various manners and humours (as we now call them) of the whole English nation, in his age. Not a single character has escaped him.
Page 269 - So spake the Son : but Satan, with his Powers, Far was advanced on winged speed : an host Innumerable as the stars of night; Or stars of morning, dew-drops, which the sun Impearls on every leaf and every flower.
Page 103 - Tis more to guide than spur the Muse's steed, Restrain his fury than provoke his speed : The winged courser, like a generous horse, Shows most true mettle when you check his course.
Page 72 - O thou, that, with surpassing glory crown'd, Look'st from thy sole dominion, like the god Of this new world ; at whose sight all the stars Hide their diminish'd heads ; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name, 0 sun ! to tell thee how I hate thy beams, That bring to my remembrance from what state 1 fell, how glorious once above thy sphere...
Page 39 - But he is always great, when some great occasion is presented to him : no man can say he ever had a fit subject for his wit, and did not then raise himself as high above the rest of poets " Quantum lenta solent inter viburna cupressi.

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