A History of English Literature

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R. G. Badger, 1919 - Literary Criticism - 493 pages
Jonathan Swift, another unique figure of very mixed traits, is like Defoe in that he connects the reign of William III with that of his successors and that, in accordance with the spirit of his age, he wrote for the most part not for literary but for practical purposes; in many other respects the two are widely different. Swift is one of the best representatives in English literature of sheer intellectual power, but his character, his aims, his environment, and the circumstances of his life denied to him also literary achievement of the greatest permanent significance.

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Page 151 - Was this the face that launched a thousand ships And burnt the topless towers of Ilium ? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.
Page 168 - Many were the wit-combats betwixt him and Ben Jonson, which two I behold like a Spanish great galleon, and an English man-of-war ; Master Jonson (like the former) was built far higher in learning ; solid, but slow in his performances. Shakespeare...
Page 351 - I STROVE with none, for none was worth my strife; Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art; I warmed both hands before the fire of life; It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
Page 168 - I behold like a Spanish great galleon, and an English man-of-war; Master Coleridge, like the former, was built far higher in learning, solid, but slow in his performances. CVL, with the English man-of-war, lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack about, and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his wit and invention.
Page 367 - Worldkin. Produce! Produce! Were it but the pitifullest infinitesimal fraction of a Product, produce it, in God's name ! 'Tis the utmost thou hast in thee : out with it, then. Up, up ! Whatsoever thy hand rindeth to do, do it with thy whole might. Work while it is called To-day; for the Night cometh, wherein no man can work.
Page 32 - More yellow was her head than the flower of the broom, and her skin was whiter than the foam of the wave, and fairer were her hands and her fingers than the blossoms of the wood anemone amidst the spray of the meadow fountain.
Page 150 - From jigging veins of rhyming mother wits, And such conceits as clownage keeps in pay, We'll lead you to the stately tent of War...
Page 348 - I know not where to go." xxxvI Beyond a mortal man impassion'd far At these voluptuous accents, he arose, Ethereal, flush'd, and like a throbbing star Seen 'mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose; Into her dream he melted, as the rose Blendeth its odour with the violet, — Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows Like Love's alarum, pattering the sharp sleet Against the window-panes; St. Agnes
Page 61 - Sumer is icumen in, Lhude sing cuccu ! Groweth sed, and bloweth med, And springth the wude nu, Sing cuccu ! " Awe bleteth after lomb, Lhouth after calve cu ; Bulluc sterteth, bucke verteth, Murie sing cuccu ! "Cuccu, cuccu, well singes thu, cuccu, Ne swik thu naver nu ; Sing, cuccu, nu, sing, cuccu, Sing, cuccu, sing, cuccu, nu !
Page 252 - Sir, a woman's preaching is like a dog's walking on his hind legs. It is not done well ; but you are surprised to find it done at all.

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