Literary Criticism for Students

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Edward Tompkins McLaughlin
H. Holt, 1893 - Criticism - 236 pages
 

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Page 144 - I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows ; Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine...
Page 54 - ... the primary laws of our nature: chiefly, as far as regards the manner in which we associate ideas in a state of excitement.
Page 225 - If all the pens that ever poets held Had fed the feeling of their masters' thoughts, And every sweetness that inspired their hearts, Their minds and muses on admired themes; If all the heavenly quintessence they still 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...
Page 61 - 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 cannot hear And weep the more because I weep in vain.
Page xiv - 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.
Page 78 - The thought suggested itself — to which of us I do not recollect — that a series of poems might be composed of two sorts. In the one, the incidents and agents were to be, in part at least, supernatural ; and the excellence aimed at was to consist in the interesting of the affections by the dramatic truth of such emotions as would naturally accompany such situations, supposing them real.
Page 108 - In vain to me the smiling mornings shine, And reddening 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...
Page 96 - It may be safely affirmed that there neither is, nor can be, any essential difference between the language of prose and metrical composition.
Page 90 - 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.
Page 145 - These are the forgeries of jealousy: And never, since the middle summer's spring, Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead, By paved fountain or by rushy brook, Or in the beached margent of the sea, To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport.

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