A Grammar of Rhetoric and Polite Literature: Comprehending the Principles of Language and Style; the Elements of Taste and Criticism; with Rules for the Study of Composition and Eloquence ...

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A. H. Maltby, 1820 - English language - 345 pages

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Page 197 - Should such a man, too fond to rule alone. Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne; View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes, And hate for arts that caused himself to rise; Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer...
Page 182 - tis slander; Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile ; whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie All corners of the world : kings, queens, and states. Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave This viperous slander enters.
Page 173 - fair light, And thou enlighten'd earth, so fresh and gay, Ye hills, and dales, ye rivers, woods, and plains, And ye that live and move, fair creatures, tell, Tell, if ye saw, how came I thus, how here?
Page 162 - The music of Carryl was, like the ." memory of joys that are past, pleasant and
Page 138 - Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening mild...
Page 133 - With many a weary step, and many a groan, Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone ; The huge round stone, resulting with a bound, Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground.
Page 324 - To hear the lark begin his flight, And singing startle the dull night, From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise...
Page 305 - How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot ; A heap of dust alone remains of thee, 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be ! Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung, Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue.
Page 119 - From harmony, from heavenly harmony, This universal frame began: From harmony to harmony Through all the compass of the notes it ran, The diapason closing full in Man.
Page 305 - WHEN all thy mercies, O my God, My rising soul surveys, Transported with the view I'm lost In wonder, love, and praise...

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