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answer Barbarians believe Bologna Bowles Cain called Canto Carbonari copy course Dante Don Juan Douglas Kinnaird drama enclosed England English extract fame father favour February 19 feel friends Galignani Genoa gentleman Gifford give hear heard heart Hobhouse honour hope hour Italian Italy January January 20 John Keats Journal kind Lady late least Leghorn Leigh Hunt less letter literary living Lord Byron Madame Guiccioli Marino Faliero mean mind MOORE MURRAY Neapolitans never noble opinion packet papers passage passion perhaps person Pisa poem poet poetry politics poor Pope Pray present prose published Ravenna received recollect request rode Romagna Sardanapalus seems sent Shelley speak spirits stanza suppose sure talk thing thought thousand tion told tragedy translation Tuscany Venice verse wish woman word write written wrote
Page 22 - But ye were dead To things ye knew not of, — were closely wed To musty laws lined out with wretched rule And compass vile; so that ye taught a school Of dolts to smooth, inlay, and clip, and fit, Till, like the certain wands of Jacob's wit, Their verses tallied. Easy was the task: A thousand handicraftsmen wore the mask Of Poesy. Ill-fated, impious race! That blasphemed the bright Lyrist to his face, And did not know it, — no, they went about, Holding a poor, decrepit standard out, Mark'd with...
Page 22 - The morning precious; beauty was awake! Why were ye not awake? But ye were dead To things ye knew not of, — were closely wed To musty laws lined out with wretched rule And compass vile: so that ye taught a school Of dolts to smooth, inlay, and clip, and fit. Till, like the certain wands of Jacob's wit. Their verses tallied.
Page 67 - Tis a grand poem — and so true! — true as the 10th of Juvenal himself. The lapse of ages changes all things — time — language — the earth — the bounds of the sea — the stars of the sky, and every thing 'about, around, and underneath' man, except man himself, who has always been, and always will be, an unlucky rascal.
Page 295 - OH, talk not to me of a name great in story; The days of our youth are the days of our glory; And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.
Page 27 - When a man hath no freedom to fight for at home, Let him combat for that of his neighbours ; Let him think of the glories of Greece and of Rome, And get knock'd on the head for his labours.
Page 109 - Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn." ["There scattered oft, the earliest of the year, By hands unseen, are showers of violets found ; The redbreast loves to build and warble there, And little footsteps lightly print the ground.
Page 52 - And if I laugh at any mortal thing, 'Tis that I may not weep; and if I weep, 'Tis that our nature cannot always bring Itself to apathy...
Page 295 - Fame! if I e'er took delight in thy praises, 'Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases, Than to see the bright eyes of the dear One discover She thought that I was not unworthy to love her.
Page 172 - It does not depend upon low themes, or even low language, for Fielding revels in both; — but is he ever vulgar? No. You see the man of education, the gentleman, and the scholar, sporting with his subject — its master, not its slave. Your vulgar writer is always most vulgar the higher his subject, as the man who showed the menagerie at Pidcock's was wont to say — "This, gentlemen, is the eagle of the sun, from Archangel, in Russia; the otterer it is the igherer he flies".
Page 9 - ... acquiesce in the truth of this remark ; but the world had done me the honour to begin the war ; and, assuredly, if peace is only to be obtained by courting and paying tribute to it, I am not qualified to obtain its countenance. I thought, in the words of Campbell, " ' Then wed thee to an exil'd lot, And if the world hath loved thee not, Its absence may be borne.