The Poetry of John DrydenHarcourt, Brace and Howe, 1920 - 361 sidor |
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Sida 8
... least four years . It is at this point that Au- brey's note in his Minutes of Lives , " John Drey- den , esq . , Poet Laureate . He will write it for me himselfe , " most tantalizes . From 1654 to the death of Cromwell we know nothing ...
... least four years . It is at this point that Au- brey's note in his Minutes of Lives , " John Drey- den , esq . , Poet Laureate . He will write it for me himselfe , " most tantalizes . From 1654 to the death of Cromwell we know nothing ...
Sida 10
... least that Dryden proceeded to widen his acquaint- ance with the Latin poets , to store his mind with the old scholastic forms of speculation and dis- course , to become aware of the new trend and the new processes , to dabble in ...
... least that Dryden proceeded to widen his acquaint- ance with the Latin poets , to store his mind with the old scholastic forms of speculation and dis- course , to become aware of the new trend and the new processes , to dabble in ...
Sida 25
... least was civilized . The new poets were to have large audiences , and they needed to be understood when they spoke . As in comedy wit was to take the place of " humour , " and pungent criticism of society was to supplant an endless ...
... least was civilized . The new poets were to have large audiences , and they needed to be understood when they spoke . As in comedy wit was to take the place of " humour , " and pungent criticism of society was to supplant an endless ...
Sida 37
... least , Dryden was learning what was being written , and coming to feel at home in society ; without which knowledge and feeling he could not have gone very far . Personally , Dryden seems never to have prepos- sessed anyone . His youth ...
... least , Dryden was learning what was being written , and coming to feel at home in society ; without which knowledge and feeling he could not have gone very far . Personally , Dryden seems never to have prepos- sessed anyone . His youth ...
Sida 54
... least let me fear it for myself ) that we , who ape his sounding words , have nothing of his thought , but are all outside ; there is not so much as a dwarf within our giant's clothes . " This hand- some recantation was carried still ...
... least let me fear it for myself ) that we , who ape his sounding words , have nothing of his thought , but are all outside ; there is not so much as a dwarf within our giant's clothes . " This hand- some recantation was carried still ...
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Absalom and Achitophel Anne Killigrew Annus Mirabilis Augustan Aureng-Zebe beauty began Ben Jonson blank verse cadences called Chaucer couplets Cowley criticism Davenant death dedication den's Dramatic Poesy Dryden elegy Elizabethan English poetry epistle Essay of Dramatic Fables fancy French genius Greek harmony heroic couplet heroic plays Heroic Stanzas Hind Hobbes Homer Horace John Johnson Juvenal kind King Lady Latin learned lines literary logue Longinus Lucretius lyric Mac Flecknoe metrical Milton mind Miscellany Muse narrative nature never numbers Oldham Ovid Panther passage passion pieces Pindaric Plutarch poem poet poetic Pope Pope's praise preface prologues and epilogues prose ratiocinative readers Restoration rhyme satire seems sense Shadwell Shakespeare song soul sound speaking Spenser style sweet thee things thou thought tion translation triplet Troilus and Cressida versification Virgil Waller words Wordsworth writing wrote Zimri
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Sida 199 - Of these the false Achitophel was first, A name to all succeeding ages curst : For close designs and crooked counsels fit, Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit, Restless, unfixed in principles and place, In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace ; A fiery soul, which working out its way, Fretted the pigmy body to decay And o'cr-informed the tenement of clay.
Sida 200 - In the first rank of these did Zimri stand ;* A man so various, that he seemed to be Not one, but all mankind's epitome : Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, Was everything by starts, and nothing long...
Sida 253 - And, wondering, on their faces fell To worship that celestial sound. Less than a god they thought there could not dwell Within the hollow of that shell, That spoke so sweetly, and so well.
Sida 249 - Happy the man, and happy he alone, He, who can call to-day his own : He who, secure within, can say, To-morrow do thy worst, for I have lived today. Be fair or foul, or rain or shine, The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine. Not Heaven itself upon the past has power ; But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.
Sida 158 - Farewell, too little and too lately known, Whom I began to think and call my own; For sure our souls were near allied, and thine Cast in the same poetic mould with mine.
Sida 312 - The style of Dryden is capricious and varied ; that of Pope is cautious and uniform. Dryden obeys the motions of his own mind ; Pope constrains his mind to his own rules of composition. Dryden is sometimes vehement and rapid; Pope is always smooth, uniform, and gentle. Dryden's page is a natural field, rising into inequalities, and diversified by the varied exuberance of abundant vegetation ; Pope's is a velvet lawn, shaven by the scythe, and levelled by the roller.
Sida 207 - But Shadwell never deviates into sense. Some beams of wit on other souls may fall, Strike through and make a lucid interval ; But Shadwell's genuine night admits no ray, His rising fogs prevail upon the day.
Sida 332 - For them the Ceylon diver held his breath, And went all naked to the hungry shark ; For them his ears gushed blood ; for them in death The seal on the cold ice with piteous bark Lay full of darts ; for them alone did seethe A thousand men in troubles wide and dark : Half-ignorant, they turned an easy wheel, That set sharp racks at work, to pinch and peel.
Sida 63 - What is this world? what asketh men to have? Now with his love, now in his colde grave Allone, with-outen any companye.
Sida 259 - Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, Drinking is the soldier's pleasure : Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure, Sweet is pleasure after pain. Soothed with the sound the king grew vain; Fought all his battles o'er again, And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain!