Modern English Literature: A Short History

الغلاف الأمامي
William Heinemann, 1907 - 420 من الصفحات
 

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الصفحة 172 - Resolution, to reject all the amplifications, digressions, and swellings of style: to return back to the primitive purity, and shortness, when men deliver'd so many things, almost in an equal number of words. They have exacted from all their members, a close, naked, natural way of speaking; positive expressions, clear senses; a native easiness: bringing all things as near the Mathematical plainness, as they can: and preferring the language of Artizans, Countrymen, and Merchants, before that, of Wits,...
الصفحة 211 - Consult the genius of the place in all ; That tells the waters or to rise or fall ; Or helps th...
الصفحة 88 - I have no other choice Either for pen or voice To sing or write. 0 Love ! they wrong thee much That say thy sweet is bitter, When thy rich fruit is such As nothing can be sweeter. Fair house of joy and bliss, Where truest pleasure is, I do adore thee : I know thee what thou art, I serve thee with my heart, And fall before thee ! Anon.
الصفحة 234 - Ye forests, bend, ye harvests, wave, to Him ; Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart, As home he goes beneath the joyous moon. Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams, Ye constellations, while your angels strike Amid the spangled sky the silver lyre.
الصفحة 272 - The few dull flowers that o'er the place are spread Partake the nature of their fenny bed; Here on its wiry stem, in rigid bloom, Grows the salt lavender that lacks perfume; Here the dwarf sallows creep, the septfoil harsh, And the soft slimy mallow of the marsh; Low on the ear the distant billows sound, And just in view appears their stony bound; No hedge nor tree conceals the glowing sun, Birds, save a wat'ry tribe, the district shun, Nor chirp among the reeds where bitter waters run.
الصفحة 276 - The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere was professedly written in imitation of the style, as well as of the spirit of the elder poets...
الصفحة 88 - Now is the month of maying, When merry lads are playing, Each with his bonny lass, Upon the greeny grass ; The Spring, clad all in gladness, Doth laugh at Winter's sadness, And to the bagpipe's sound The nymphs tread out their ground.
الصفحة 205 - The best of the modern poets in all languages are those that have the nearest copied the ancients. Indeed, in all the common subjects of poetry, the thoughts are so obvious, at least if they are natural, that whoever writes last must write things like what have been said...
الصفحة 89 - LIKE to the clear in highest sphere Where all imperial glory shines, Of selfsame colour is her hair Whether unfolded, or in twines : Heigh ho, fair Rosaline...
الصفحة 220 - To Dr. Jonathan Swift, the most agreeable companion, the truest friend, and the greatest genius of his age.

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