An Essay on the Genius and Writings of Pope, 1. köideJ. Dodsley, 1772 - 495 pages |
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Page 12
... when the pitiless mariners had left him in that dreadful folitude , I never heard A found fo difmal as their parting oars ! * MESS . V. 23 . tv . 70 . ON On the other hand , the prophet has been fometimes 12 ESSAY ON THE GENIUS.
... when the pitiless mariners had left him in that dreadful folitude , I never heard A found fo difmal as their parting oars ! * MESS . V. 23 . tv . 70 . ON On the other hand , the prophet has been fometimes 12 ESSAY ON THE GENIUS.
Page 13
Joseph Warton. On the other hand , the prophet has been fometimes particular , when PoPE has been only general . " Lift up thine eyes round ༦ ་ 66 about , and fee ; all they gather themselves together , they come to thee : The ...
Joseph Warton. On the other hand , the prophet has been fometimes particular , when PoPE has been only general . " Lift up thine eyes round ༦ ་ 66 about , and fee ; all they gather themselves together , they come to thee : The ...
Page 21
... hand of Paul Brill , is by no means excelled by the foregoing . Qua nudo Rosamonda humilis fub culmine tecti Marginis obfcuri fervat inane decus , Rara intermiffæ circum veftigia molis , Et fola in vacuo tramite porta labat : Sacræ olim ...
... hand of Paul Brill , is by no means excelled by the foregoing . Qua nudo Rosamonda humilis fub culmine tecti Marginis obfcuri fervat inane decus , Rara intermiffæ circum veftigia molis , Et fola in vacuo tramite porta labat : Sacræ olim ...
Page 51
... hand in an ode on St. Cecilia ; we find many despicable rhapsodies , fo called , in Tonfon's Mifcellanies . We have there also preserved another , and an earlier ode , of Dryden on this fubject , One ftanza of which I cannot forbear ...
... hand in an ode on St. Cecilia ; we find many despicable rhapsodies , fo called , in Tonfon's Mifcellanies . We have there also preserved another , and an earlier ode , of Dryden on this fubject , One ftanza of which I cannot forbear ...
Page 52
... hands . The reader doubtless obferves the fine effect of the repetition of the last line ; as well as the ftroke of nature , in making these rade hearers imagine fome god lay concealed in this first musician's inftrument . 7 Flaccus ...
... hands . The reader doubtless obferves the fine effect of the repetition of the last line ; as well as the ftroke of nature , in making these rade hearers imagine fome god lay concealed in this first musician's inftrument . 7 Flaccus ...
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Abelard Addiſon alfo almoſt alſo ancient beautiful becauſe beſt Boileau Cant character circumftance cloſe compofition Corneille criticiſm defcribed defcription defign Domenichino Dryden Eclogue Effay elegance Eloifa epic poetry epiftle Euripides excellent expreffed expreffion exquifite faid fame fatire fays fecond feems fentiments fhall firft firſt folemn fome fpeak fpecies fpirit ftanza ftory ftrokes ftyle fubject fublime fuch fufficient fylphs genius greateſt himſelf hiſtory Homer Iliad images imagination inferted inftance itſelf Jane Shore juft juſt laft laſt loft Milton moft moſt mufic muſt numbers o'er obfervations occafion Ovid paffage paffion painted pathetic perfon Petrarch pieces Pindar pleaſed pleaſure poefy poem poet poetical poetry POPE praiſes preſent profe publiſhed Quintilian Racine racter raiſed reaſon reprefented ſay ſcene ſeem ſhall ſhe ſhould ſome Sophocles ſpeak ſtory ſuch taſte thefe themſelves Theocritus theſe thofe thoſe tion tragedy tranflated uſed verfe verſes Virgil Voltaire whofe whoſe writing
Popular passages
Page 40 - Pollute with sinful blame, The saintly veil of maiden white to throw; Confounded, that her Maker's eyes Should look so near upon her foul deformities.
Page 259 - For others good, or melt at others woe. What can atone (oh ever-injur'd shade !) Thy fate unpity'd, and thy rites unpaid ? No friend's complaint, no kind domestic tear Pleas'd thy pale ghost, or grac'd thy mournful bier : By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd, By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd, By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd, By strangers honour'd, and by strangers mourn'd! What tho' no friends in sable weeds appear.
Page 322 - How oft, when press'd to marriage, have I said, Curse on all laws but those which love has made! Love, free as air, at sight of human ties, Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies...
Page 157 - Where a new world leaps out at his command, And ready nature waits upon his hand ; When the ripe colours soften and unite, And sweetly melt into just shade and light ; When mellowing years their full perfection give( And each bold figure just begins to live, The treacherous colours the fair art betray, And all the bright creation fades away...
Page 233 - Where the bee sucks, there suck I; In a cowslip's bell I lie: There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly, After summer, merrily : Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
Page 7 - Clos'd o'er the head of your lov'd Lycidas? For neither were ye playing on the steep, Where your old bards the famous Druids lie, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream.
Page 38 - The oracles are dumb; No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving: No nightly trance or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
Page 137 - ... faces to make one excellent. Such personages, I think, would please nobody but the painter that made them ; not but I think a painter may make a better face than ever was ; but he must do it by a kind of felicity, (as a musician that maketh an excellent air in music,) and not by rule.
Page 202 - What woful stuff this madrigal would be In some starved hackney sonneteer or me ! But let a lord once own the happy lines, How the wit brightens ! how the style refines ! Before his sacred name flies every fault, And each exalted stanza teems with thought.
Page 164 - Durfey's Tales. With him most authors steal their works, or buy ; Garth did not write his own Dispensary. Name a new play, and he's the poet's friend ; Nay, show'd his faults — but when would poets mend? No place so sacred from such fops is barr'd, Nor is Paul's church more safe than Paul's churchyard: Nay, fly to altars ; there they'll talk you dead ; For fools rush in where angels fear to tread.