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Side 332 - And every one that was in distress, and every one that was in debt, and every one that was discontented, gathered themselves unto him; and he became a captain over them: and there were with him about four hundred men.
Side 257 - THE measure is English heroic verse without rime, as that of Homer in Greek, and of Virgil in Latin, — rime being no necessary adjunct or true ornament of poem or good verse, in longer works especially, but the invention of a barbarous age, to set off wretched matter and lame metre...
Side 375 - The intelligible forms of ancient poets, The fair humanities of old religion, The power, the beauty, and the majesty, That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain, Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring, Or chasms and watery depths; all these have vanished; They live no longer in the faith of reason.
Side 258 - ... apt numbers, fit quantity of syllables, and the sense variously drawn out from one verse into another...
Side 460 - With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love.
Side 461 - John Keats, who was killed off by one critique, Just as he really promised something great, If not intelligible, without Greek Contrived to talk about the gods of late, Much as they might have been supposed to speak. Poor fellow ! His was an untoward fate ; 'Tis strange the mind, that very fiery particle, Should let itself be snuffed out by an article.
Side 463 - Angling is somewhat like poetry, men are to be born so: I mean, with inclinations to it, though both may be heightened by discourse and practice : but he that hopes to be a good angler, must not only bring an inquiring, searching, observing wit, but he must bring a large measure of hope and patience, and a love and propensity to the art itself; but having once got and practised it, then doubt not but Angling will prove to be so pleasant that it will prove to be, like virtue, a reward to itself.
Side 465 - With the swift pilgrim's daubed nest; The groves already did rejoice, In Philomel's triumphing voice, The showers were short, the weather mild, The morning fresh, the evening smiled. Joan takes her neat-rubbed pail, and now She trips to milk the sand-red cow; Where, for some sturdy foot-ball swain, Joan strokes a syllabub or twain; The fields and gardens were beset With tulips, crocus, violet; And now, though late, the modest rose Did more than half a blush disclose. Thus all looks gay, and full...
Side 460 - IF all the world and love were young, And truth in every shepherd's tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee and be thy love.
Side 465 - Nature seem'd in love: The lusty sap began to move; Fresh juice did stir th' embracing vines, And birds had drawn their valentines, The jealous Trout, that low did lie, Rose at a well dissembled fly; There stood my friend with patient skill, Attending of his trembling quill.