English bards and Scotch reviewers; a satire. To which is added, An ode to Bonaparte [and Oscar of Alva].West & Blake, 1814 - 72 pages |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 7
Page 24
... waves of Forth , Low groaned the startled whirlwinds of the north ; Tweed ruffled half his waves to form a tear , The other half pursued his calmn career 5 † In 1806 , Messrs . Jeffrey and Moore met at Chalk - Farm The duel was ...
... waves of Forth , Low groaned the startled whirlwinds of the north ; Tweed ruffled half his waves to form a tear , The other half pursued his calmn career 5 † In 1806 , Messrs . Jeffrey and Moore met at Chalk - Farm The duel was ...
Page 30
... Wave the white arm and point the pliant toe ; COLLINI trill her love - inspiring song , 590 600 610 Strain her fair neck and charm the listening throng ! * Mr . S. is the illustrious author of " The Sleeping Beau- ty ; " and some ...
... Wave the white arm and point the pliant toe ; COLLINI trill her love - inspiring song , 590 600 610 Strain her fair neck and charm the listening throng ! * Mr . S. is the illustrious author of " The Sleeping Beau- ty ; " and some ...
Page 44
... wave , The partial Muse delighted loves to lave , On her green banks a greener wreath is wove , To crown the bards that haunt her classic grove , Where RICHARDS wakes a genuine poet's fires , And modern Britons justly praise their sires ...
... wave , The partial Muse delighted loves to lave , On her green banks a greener wreath is wove , To crown the bards that haunt her classic grove , Where RICHARDS wakes a genuine poet's fires , And modern Britons justly praise their sires ...
Page 60
... more his plumes of sable wave . 10 . Fair shone the sun on Oscar's birth , When Angus hail'd his eldest born ; The vassals round their chieftain's hearth , Crowd to applaud the happy morn . 11 . They feast upon the mountain deer , The 60.
... more his plumes of sable wave . 10 . Fair shone the sun on Oscar's birth , When Angus hail'd his eldest born ; The vassals round their chieftain's hearth , Crowd to applaud the happy morn . 11 . They feast upon the mountain deer , The 60.
Page 63
... waves prolong his stay , " Yet , Oscar's bark is seldom slow . " " 28 . " Oh ! no ! " the anguish'd Sire rejoin'd , " Nor chase , nor wave , my Boy delay ; " Would he to Mora seem unkind ? " Would aught to her impede his way ? 29 . " Oh ...
... waves prolong his stay , " Yet , Oscar's bark is seldom slow . " " 28 . " Oh ! no ! " the anguish'd Sire rejoin'd , " Nor chase , nor wave , my Boy delay ; " Would he to Mora seem unkind ? " Would aught to her impede his way ? 29 . " Oh ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
Allan's Alva's Angus applaud Ballads bard Behold Beltane blest boast BOWLES Bowles's Camoens CAPEL LOFFT Carlisle Catullus COTTLE dare Dark Deloraine Dunciad E'en Edinburgh Review Epic fair fame fear feel Folly fools gale genius GIFFORD glory hail Hallam harp hath heart heroes hoary honour hope inspiration JEFFREY JEFFREY's Joan of Arc Juvenal LITTLE's live Lord Lord Bolingbroke Lord CARLISLE Lord Fanny lyre Lyrical Ballads Marmion minstrel Muse ne'er night noble numbers nuptial o'er once Oscar perchance Pibroch's pistol Pixies poem Poesy poet's poetical POPE praise prose race resign rhyme rhymester rise sable Satire scenes SCOTT scrawl scribbler Sire sleep smile soar song sonnets sons soul sound SOUTHEY Southey's spirit spurn stanza Stott strain STRANGFORD taste thee themes thine thing thou thrice throng Tolbooth translator Triumphs verse voice vulgar wave worthy write yield youth
Popular passages
Page 38 - So the struck eagle, stretched upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart, And winged the shaft that quivered in his heart ; Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel He nursed the pinion which impelled the steel ; While the same plumage that had warmed his nest Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast.
Page 54 - All Evil Spirit as thou art, It is enough to grieve the heart To see thine own unstrung; To think that God's fair world hath been The footstool of a thing so mean!
Page 54 - Thine evil deeds are writ in gore, Nor written thus in vain — Thy triumphs tell of fame no more, Or deepen every stain...
Page 24 - Health to great Jeffrey ! Heaven preserve his life To flourish on the fertile shores of Fife, And guard it sacred in its future wars, Since authors sometimes seek the field of Mars ! Can none remember that eventful day ? That ever glorious, almost fatal fray, When Little's leadless pistol met his eye, And Bow-street myrmidons stood laughing by?
Page 16 - Next comes the dull disciple of thy school, That mild apostate from poetic rule, The simple Wordsworth, framer of a lay As soft as evening in his favourite May, Who warns his friend 'to shake off toil and trouble, And quit his books, for fear of growing double...
Page 16 - Who, both by precept and example, shows That prose is verse, and verse is merely prose; Convincing all, by demonstration plain, Poetic souls delight in prose insane; And Christmas stories tortured into rhyme Contain the essence of the true sublime. Thus, when he tells the tale of Betty Foy, The idiot mother of 'an idiot boy...
Page 39 - Tis true, that all who rhyme— nay, all who write, Shrink from that fatal word to genius— trite; Yet Truth sometimes will lend her noblest fires, And decorate the verse herself inspires: This fact in Virtue's name let Crabbe attest; Though nature's sternest painter, yet the best.
Page 55 - Then haste thee to thy sullen Isle, And gaze upon the sea; That element may meet thy smile — It ne'er was ruled by thee! Or trace with thine all idle hand In loitering mood upon the sand That Earth is now as free! That Corinth's pedagogue hath now Transferred his by-word to thy brow.
Page 52 - That spell upon the minds of men Breaks never to unite again, That led them to adore Those Pagod things of sabre sway, With fronts of brass, and feet of clay.
Page 9 - Take — hackneyed jokes from Miller, got by rote, With just enough of learning to misquote; A mind well skilled to find or forge a fault, A turn for punning, call it Attic salt...