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The Poetical Works of John Dryden ... With the Life of the Author, Volym 2
Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1777
appear arms bear beauty better born bring cause common crowd death Dryden earth edition English Ev'n eyes face fair fall fame fate father fear fields fire foes force give gods grace ground hand happy head heart Heav'n honor hope Italy judge kind king land late laws least leave less light live look Lord lost mean mind nature never night o'er once pain Persius plain play poem poet poor pow'r praise present prince printed PROLOGUE race reason rest rise Roman sacred satire seas sense side song soul sound stand sure tell thee things thou thought thro translation true turn verse Virgil virtue whole winds write young youth
Sida 253 - THREE Poets, in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy, and England did adorn. The first in loftiness of thought surpassed; The next in majesty •, In both the last. The force of Nature could no further go ; To make a third, she joined the former two.
Sida 407 - Chase from our minds th' infernal foe, And peace, the fruit of love, bestow; And, lest our feet should step astray, Protect and guide us in the way. Make us eternal truths receive, And practise all that we believe: Give us Thyself, that we may see The Father, and the Son, by Thee.
Sida 111 - Pleased with the danger when the waves went high, He sought the storms; but, for a calm unfit, Would steer too nigh the sands, to boast his wit.
Sida 253 - Sharp violins proclaim Their jealous pangs and desperation, Fury, frantic indignation, Depth of pains, and height of passion For the fair disdainful dame.
Sida 219 - My thoughtless youth was wing'd with vain desires; My manhood, long misled by wandering fires, Follow'd false lights; and when their glimpse was gone, My pride struck out new sparkles of her own. Such was I, such by nature still I am; Be thine the glory, and be mine the shame. Good life be now my task; my doubts are done: What more could fright my faith, than Three in One?
Sida 136 - In thy felonious heart though venom lies, It does but touch thy Irish pen, and dies. Thy genius calls thee not to purchase fame In keen iambics, but mild anagram. Leave writing plays, and choose for thy command Some peaceful province in acrostic land. There thou may'st wings display and altars raise, And torture one poor word ten thousand ways. Or, if thou wouldst thy different talents suit, Set thy own songs, and sing them to thy lute.
Sida 90 - The third way is that of imitation, where the translator (if now he has not lost that name) assumes the liberty not only to vary from the words and sense, but to forsake them both, as he sees occasion : and taking only some general hints from the original, to run division on the ground-work, as he pleases.
Sida 214 - The judging God shall close the book of fate: And there the last assizes keep, For those who wake, and those who sleep...
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