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Page 7
... says , that the line of English poets begins with him , as that of English kings with William the Conqueror . He is styled the " Father of English poetry ; " " the loadstar of the language , " and extolled as " The morning - star of ...
... says , that the line of English poets begins with him , as that of English kings with William the Conqueror . He is styled the " Father of English poetry ; " " the loadstar of the language , " and extolled as " The morning - star of ...
Page 11
... says , that what we call antiquity , was really the youth of the world , and Chaucer's poetry seems to breathe of a time when humanity was younger and more joyous - hearted than it now is . " The first great poet of any country has this ...
... says , that what we call antiquity , was really the youth of the world , and Chaucer's poetry seems to breathe of a time when humanity was younger and more joyous - hearted than it now is . " The first great poet of any country has this ...
Page 16
... says of him : " His narrative flows on like one of our inland rivers , sometimes hastening a little in its eddies , seeming to run sunshine - sometimes gliding smoothly , while here and there a beautiful , quiet thought , a pure feeling ...
... says of him : " His narrative flows on like one of our inland rivers , sometimes hastening a little in its eddies , seeming to run sunshine - sometimes gliding smoothly , while here and there a beautiful , quiet thought , a pure feeling ...
Page 17
... say , " and a hope that you and I may some day see that venerable " hostelrie . " As examples of our poet's humor , satire , and power , we have here a lawyer described as the busiest of mortals , with the sly addition , " And yet he ...
... say , " and a hope that you and I may some day see that venerable " hostelrie . " As examples of our poet's humor , satire , and power , we have here a lawyer described as the busiest of mortals , with the sly addition , " And yet he ...
Page 20
... says of him , " He is a perpetual fountain of good sense . " Emerson accuses Chaucer of being a " huge borrower , " using " poor- Gower " ( an author of that time ) " as if he were only a brickkiln or stone quarry , out of which to ...
... says of him , " He is a perpetual fountain of good sense . " Emerson accuses Chaucer of being a " huge borrower , " using " poor- Gower " ( an author of that time ) " as if he were only a brickkiln or stone quarry , out of which to ...
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Common terms and phrases
Addison admired Ballymahon beautiful better Burns called Canterbury Tales charming Chaucer child Cowper dear death delight Dryden England English English language eyes Faerie Queene fame father friends gave genius GEOFFREY CHAUCER give Goldsmith grace Griselda hand happy heart heaven honor Italy John Dryden Johnson king knew lady language laughed learned Lichfield literary live London look Lord Lycidas Milton mind moral mother nature never night o'er once Paradise Lost Petrarch play pleasant poem poet poetry poor Pope praise Puritan Queen rhyme SAMUEL JOHNSON satire says seemed Shakespeare sing smile song soon soul Spenser spent story style sweet Swift Tabard tears tell tender thee thing thou thought tion told took Twickenham verse Virgil walk Westminster Abbey wife woman words wretched writing wrote young
Popular passages
Page 275 - Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays: Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing," That thus they all shall meet in future days: There, ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear; While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere...
Page 205 - Seven years, my lord, have now passed since I waited in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time I have been pushing on my work through difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it at last to the verge of publication, without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of favour.
Page 72 - So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity That, when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt...
Page 222 - There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule, The village master taught his little school ; A man severe he was, and stern to view, I knew him well, and every truant knew...
Page 74 - YET once more, O ye laurels, and once more, Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude ; And, with forced fingers rude, Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due : For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer : Who would not sing for Lycidas ? He knew, Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.
Page 222 - Yet he was kind; or, if severe in aught, The love he bore to learning was in fault; The village all declared how much he knew; 'Twas certain he could write, and cipher too; Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, And even the story ran that he could gauge...
Page 275 - The priest-like father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the friend of God on high ; Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; Or, how the royal bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire ; Or, Job's pathetic plaint and wailing cry ; Or, rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire ; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
Page 248 - With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smile I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, ' Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!
Page 278 - Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er! Such fate to suffering worth is...
Page 241 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs — and God has given my share — I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose...