The English Poets: Ben Jonson to DrydenThomas Humphry Ward Macmillan and Company, 1880 - English poetry |
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Page 2
... fear , have taken him at his word . His fame as a dramatist - on which his general fame will always essentially depend - must therefore remain within the keeping of those who are ' sealed of the tribe of Ben ' ; but of these the ...
... fear , have taken him at his word . His fame as a dramatist - on which his general fame will always essentially depend - must therefore remain within the keeping of those who are ' sealed of the tribe of Ben ' ; but of these the ...
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... and constantly recurs to the commonplace but wholesome maxim that it is the 1 He has been credited ( but erroneously ) with the authorship of the National Anthem . love , not the fear , of his subjects upon BEN JONSON . 5.
... and constantly recurs to the commonplace but wholesome maxim that it is the 1 He has been credited ( but erroneously ) with the authorship of the National Anthem . love , not the fear , of his subjects upon BEN JONSON . 5.
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Thomas Humphry Ward. love , not the fear , of his subjects upon which a monarch ought to rely . But Jonson's satirical epigrams are both less effective and less elaborate than those of a directly opposite tendency . Few of our Jacobean ...
Thomas Humphry Ward. love , not the fear , of his subjects upon which a monarch ought to rely . But Jonson's satirical epigrams are both less effective and less elaborate than those of a directly opposite tendency . Few of our Jacobean ...
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... fears Whereof the loyal conscience so complains . Thus , by these subtle trains Do several passions invade the mind , And strike our reason blind . TO HEAVEN . [ From The Forest . ] Good and great God ! can I not think of Thee , But it ...
... fears Whereof the loyal conscience so complains . Thus , by these subtle trains Do several passions invade the mind , And strike our reason blind . TO HEAVEN . [ From The Forest . ] Good and great God ! can I not think of Thee , But it ...
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... fear , and must with horror fall , And destined unto judgment , after all . I feel my griefs too , and there scarce is ground Upon my flesh t ' inflict another wound ; — Yet dare I not complain or wish for death , With holy Paul , lest ...
... fear , and must with horror fall , And destined unto judgment , after all . I feel my griefs too , and there scarce is ground Upon my flesh t ' inflict another wound ; — Yet dare I not complain or wish for death , With holy Paul , lest ...
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Common terms and phrases
Absalom and Achitophel Æneid beauty Ben Jonson born breast breath bright Carew Castara Comus conceits Cowley Crashaw death delight died divine dost doth Dryden earth EDMUND W English English poetry eternal eyes fair fame fancy fate fear fire flame flowers Giles Fletcher glory Gondibert grace hand happy hast hath heart heaven hell Herbert heroic couplet Herrick Hesperides hill honour Hudibras Jonson King Lady light live Lord lost Lycidas Milton mind mistress Muse nature never night o'er once Paradise Paradise Lost Paradise Regained passion Perilla Pindar pleasure poems poet poet's poetic poetry praise pride rose sacred shade shalt shine sighs sight sing sleep song sonnet soul spirit stars sweet tears thee thine things thou thought tree verse Waller wanton weep winds wings write youth
Popular passages
Page 324 - Alas ! what boots it with incessant care To tend the homely slighted shepherd's trade, And strictly meditate the thankless Muse? Were it not better done as others use, To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, Or with the tangles of Nesera's hair ? Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights, and live laborious days...
Page 458 - 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 ; But in the course of one revolving moon Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon ; Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.
Page 315 - And bring all heaven before mine eyes. And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.
Page 218 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Page 455 - A daring pilot in extremity, 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.
Page 309 - Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes From betwixt two aged oaks, Where Corydon and Thyrsis met, Are at their savoury dinner set Of herbs, and other country messes, Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses, And then in haste her bower she leaves, With Thestylis to bind the sheaves; Or, if the earlier season lead, To the tann'd haycock in the mead. Sometimes, with secure delight, The upland hamlets will invite, When the merry bells ring round, And the jocund rebecks sound To many a youth and many a maid...
Page 301 - I am now indebted, as being a work not to be raised from the heat of youth, or the vapours of wine, like that which flows at waste from the pen of some vulgar amourist, or the trencher fury of a rhyming parasite ; nor to be obtained by the invocation of dame Memory and her siren daughters ; but by devout prayer to that eternal spirit, who can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and sends out his seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases...
Page 324 - Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears ; ' Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, Nor in the glistering foil Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies ; But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes And perfect witness of all-judging Jove ; As he pronounces lastly on each deed, Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed.
Page 274 - Go, lovely Rose! Tell her, that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.
Page 326 - Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...