Robert Montgomery and His Reviewers, with Some Remarks on the Present State of English Poetry and on the Laws of Criticism

James Ridgway, 1830 - 188 Seiten

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Seite 90 - Whither shall I go then from Thy spirit : or whither shall I go then from Thy presence ? If I climb up into heaven, Thou art there : if I go down to hell, Thou art there also. If I take the wings of the morning : and remain in the uttermost parts of the sea ; Even there also shall Thy hand lead me : and Thy right hand shall hold me.
Seite 24 - You then whose judgment the right course would steer, Know well each Ancient's proper character: His fable, subject, scope in every page; Religion, country, genius of his age: Without all these at once before your eyes, Cavil you may, but never criticise.
Seite 64 - Let it be seldom, and compell'd by need; And have, at least, their precedent to plead. The critic else proceeds without remorse, Seizes your fame, and puts his laws in force.
Seite 50 - In every work regard the writer's end, Since none can compass more than they intend ; And if the means be just, the conduct true, Applause, in spite of trivial faults, is due. As men of breeding, sometimes men of wit, T...
Seite 98 - He comes! dread Brama shakes the sunless sky With murmuring wrath, and thunders from on high, Heaven's fiery horse, beneath his warrior form, Paws the light clouds, and gallops on the storm! Wide waves his flickering sword ; his bright arms glow Like summer suns, and light the world below ! Earth, and her trembling isles in Ocean's bed, Are shook ; and Nature rocks beneath his tread!
Seite 67 - From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art, Which without passing thro' the judgment, gains The heart, and all its end at once attains.
Seite 93 - Auspicious HOPE ! in thy sweet garden grow Wreaths for each toil, a charm for every woe ; Won by their sweets, in Nature's languid hour, The way-worn pilgrim seeks thy summer bower ; There, as the wild bee murmurs on the wing, What peaceful dreams thy handmaid spirits bring ! What viewless forms th' folian organ play, And sweep the furrow'd lines of anxious thought away.
Seite 107 - Treads the loved shore he sigh'd to leave behind; Meets at each step a friend's familiar face, And flies at last to Helen's long embrace; Wipes from her cheek the rapture-speaking tear, And clasps, with many a sigh, his children dear! While, long neglected, but at length caress'd, His faithful dog salutes the smiling guest, Points to the master's eyes (where'er they roam) His wistful face, and whines a welcome home.
Seite 156 - It is amusing to think over the history of most of the publications which have had a run during the last few years. The publisher is often the publisher of some periodical work. In this periodical work the first flourish of trumpets is sounded. The peal is then echoed .and re-echoed by all the other periodical works over which the publisher, or the author, or the author's coterie, may have any influence.
Seite 62 - Nay, though at court, perhaps, it may find grace, Such they'll degrade; and sometimes in its stead, In downright charity, revive the dead; Mark where a bold, expressive phrase appears Bright...

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