The Works of Thomas Gray ...: Essay on Gray's poetry [by J. Mitford] LettersW. Pickering, 1835 |
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Page viii
... taste , and not lowered by familiarity ; and while its structure does not admit the balanced and suspended harmony of a long period , it is able to assume another source of plea- sure , from the agreeable impression of its rhymes . In ...
... taste , and not lowered by familiarity ; and while its structure does not admit the balanced and suspended harmony of a long period , it is able to assume another source of plea- sure , from the agreeable impression of its rhymes . In ...
Page viii
... taste of the author during so short a period . For this change , in some degree , I can now account satisfac- torily ; as I possess an interleaved copy of the Seasons ( of the edition of 1736 ) which belonged to Thomson , with his own ...
... taste of the author during so short a period . For this change , in some degree , I can now account satisfac- torily ; as I possess an interleaved copy of the Seasons ( of the edition of 1736 ) which belonged to Thomson , with his own ...
Page xii
... taste from Italy ; with Spenser , Drayton , Daniel , and Drummond of Hawthorn- den . Milton was the last , I believe , of our old poets , who practised this species of composition ; nor am I aware , that it was revived by any one before ...
... taste from Italy ; with Spenser , Drayton , Daniel , and Drummond of Hawthorn- den . Milton was the last , I believe , of our old poets , who practised this species of composition ; nor am I aware , that it was revived by any one before ...
Page xiii
Thomas Gray John Mitford. ley : and how indifferently has even the poetical taste of Mr. Mason succeeded in his supplement to the Ode on Vicissitude ! If such had been Gray's habitual mode of com- position in his lyrical verses , he ...
Thomas Gray John Mitford. ley : and how indifferently has even the poetical taste of Mr. Mason succeeded in his supplement to the Ode on Vicissitude ! If such had been Gray's habitual mode of com- position in his lyrical verses , he ...
Page xv
... taste receives from it an exquisite gratification . It is impossible , indeed , not to observe the greatest skill in the harmony of his verse , and the adaptation of the measures to the subject ; in the beauty of the metrical transi ...
... taste receives from it an exquisite gratification . It is impossible , indeed , not to observe the greatest skill in the harmony of his verse , and the adaptation of the measures to the subject ; in the beauty of the metrical transi ...
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Common terms and phrases
Abbéville admired adorned agreeable Alcaic ancient appears Aristotle Bard beauty believe blank verse called character church composition critic diction drama Dryden effect Elegy English English poetry epode Essay Euripides expression eyes fancy feeling Florence formed French genius Genoa give Grande Chartreuse Gray's Greek Horace images imagination imitation language Latin least letter lines Lycophron lyrical lyrical poetry manner Mason mention ments metre mihi Milton mind moral morning mountains nature never night numbers observe opinion painting pass passage peculiar perhaps picture Pindar pleasure poet poetical poetry Pope Pope's Posidippus quod racter reader remarks Rhône rhyme Rome says seems sentiment Shakespeare stanza Statius style sublimity Syphax Tacitus taste tell thing thought Tibullus tion town tragedy Turin vast versification Voltaire Walpole Walpole's Warton WEST words write καὶ τὰ τῶν
Popular passages
Page lxxviii - Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear : They breathe a soul to animate thy clay. Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings, Waves in the eye of Heaven her many-colour'd wings.
Page lxxv - While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes ; Youth on the prow, and pleasure at the helm ; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway 75 That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
Page 153 - I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinished, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them...
Page 71 - I do not remember to have gone ten paces without an exclamation, that there was no restraining. Not a precipice, not a torrent, not a cliff, but is pregnant with religion and poetry. There are certain scenes that would awe an atheist into belief, without the help of other argument. One need not have a very fantastic imagination to see spirits there at noonday. You have death perpetually before your eyes ; only so far removed, as to compose the mind without frighting it.
Page lix - There scattered oft, the earliest of the year, By hands unseen are showers of violets found; The red-breast loves to build and warble there, And little footsteps lightly print the ground.
Page 21 - It is a little chaos of mountains and precipices ; mountains, it is true, that do not ascend much above the clouds, nor are the declivities quite so amazing as Dover cliff; but just such hills as people, who love their necks as well as I do, may venture to climb, and crags that give the eye as much pleasure as if they were more dangerous...
Page cxiv - His supplication to father Thames, to tell him who drives the hoop or tosses the ball, is useless and puerile. Father Thames has no better means of knowing than himself. His epithet buxom health is not elegant; he seems not to understand the word.
Page 3 - When you have seen one of my days, you have seen a whole year of my life ; they go round and round like the blind horse in the mill, only he has the satisfaction of fancying he makes a progress and gets some ground ; my eyes are open enough to see the same dull prospect, and to know that, having made four-and-twenty steps more, I shall be just where I was.
Page viii - Thoughtless of beauty, she was Beauty's self, Recluse amid the close-embowering woods. As in the hollow breast of Apennine, Beneath the shelter of encircling hills, A myrtle rises, far from human eye, And breathes its balmy fragrance o'er the wild...
Page 19 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.