The Poetry of John DrydenHarcourt, Brace and Howe, 1920 - 361 sidor |
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Sida 7
... whole tone of Augustan poetry in England was derived from such academic practices as these , which freighted the styles of many generations of schoolboys with conventional imagery and stereotyped epithets . Certainly it was under Busby ...
... whole tone of Augustan poetry in England was derived from such academic practices as these , which freighted the styles of many generations of schoolboys with conventional imagery and stereotyped epithets . Certainly it was under Busby ...
Sida 33
... whole world fresh and vivid about us all our days there would be no call for Fancy in the metaphysics of true enjoyment . The life of the imagination is a life of sheer pretense . " Imagination , " runs a sen- tence in Hobbes's Physics ...
... whole world fresh and vivid about us all our days there would be no call for Fancy in the metaphysics of true enjoyment . The life of the imagination is a life of sheer pretense . " Imagination , " runs a sen- tence in Hobbes's Physics ...
Sida 34
... whole truth , that the best poet is he who has the best memory . Ten years before , Milton , in his Reason of Church Gov- ernment , had confided to " any knowing reader " that the great work which he was setting out to do would be a ...
... whole truth , that the best poet is he who has the best memory . Ten years before , Milton , in his Reason of Church Gov- ernment , had confided to " any knowing reader " that the great work which he was setting out to do would be a ...
Sida 47
... whole temper of his time . Dryden lacks that organic conception of man and nature which gives what is called insight . He can- not compress a large amount of emotional expe- rience into a single phrase . He is virtually barren of ...
... whole temper of his time . Dryden lacks that organic conception of man and nature which gives what is called insight . He can- not compress a large amount of emotional expe- rience into a single phrase . He is virtually barren of ...
Sida 50
... whole rivers . " Tis in vain ; Morat stands there to drive them back again ; With those huge bellows in his hands he blows New fire into my head ; my brain - pan glows . These speeches are from the heroic plays , which in some measure ...
... whole rivers . " Tis in vain ; Morat stands there to drive them back again ; With those huge bellows in his hands he blows New fire into my head ; my brain - pan glows . These speeches are from the heroic plays , which in some measure ...
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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!