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The Works of John Dryden: Now First Collected in Eighteen Volumes, Volume 11
John Dryden,Walter Scott
Affichage du livre entier - 1821
appear Arcite arms bear beauty began better blood born called cause Chaucer court Cymon death desire Dryden EPISTLE equal eyes face fair fame fate father fear fight fire force fortune gave give grace ground hand happy head heart heaven honour hope Italy judge kind king knight known lady learned least leave length less light lines live look lord lost means mind muse nature never noble once original pain Palamon play pleased pleasure poem poet poetry praise present prince pursue queen race raised received rest seems seen side sight soon soul sound stood sweet tale tears thee thing thou thought took translation true turn verses virtue wife young youth
Page 169 - From harmony, from heavenly harmony This universal frame began ; When Nature underneath a heap Of jarring atoms lay, And could not heave her head, The tuneful voice was heard from high, Arise, ye more than dead.
Page 189 - War, he sung, is toil and trouble, Honour but an empty bubble, Never ending, still beginning ; Fighting still, and still destroying ; If the world be worth thy winning, Think, O think, it worth enjoying : Lovely Thais sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee ! —The many rend the skies with loud applause ; So Love was crown'd, but Music won the cause.
Page 187 - Flush'd with a purple grace, He shows his honest face ; Now give the hautboys breath : he comes ! he comes ! Bacchus, ever fair and young, Drinking joys did first ordain ; Bacchus...
Page 228 - Tis sufficient to say, according to the proverb, that here is God's plenty. We have our forefathers and great grand-dames all before us, as they were in Chaucer's days: their general characters are still remaining in mankind, and even in England, though they are called by other names than those of Monks, and Friars, and Canons, and Lady Abbesses, and Nuns; 'for mankind is ever the same, and nothing lost out of nature, though everything is altered.
Page 189 - Now strike the golden lyre again ; A louder yet, and yet a louder strain. Break his bands of sleep asunder, And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark, hark ! the horrid sound . Has raised up his head ; As awaked from the dead, And amazed, he stares around. Revenge, revenge...
Page 186 - In flower of youth and beauty's pride. Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deserves the fair...
Page 172 - To all the blest above : So when the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour, The trumpet shall be heard on high, The dead shall live, the living die, And Music shall untune the sky.
Page 162 - Three poets in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy, and England did adorn; The first in loftiness of thought surpassed, The next in majesty; in both the last. The force of Nature could no further go, To make a third she joined the former two.
Page 221 - In the first place, as he is the father of English poetry, so I hold him in the same degree of veneration as the Grecians held Homer or the Romans Virgil.
Page 193 - But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts ! Our frailties help, our vice control, Submit the senses to the soul; And when rebellious they are grown, Then lay thy hand, and hold them down. Chase from our minds the infernal foe, And peace, the fruit of Love, bestow ; And lest our feet should step astray, Protect and guide us in the way.