Essays at Large

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H. Doran Company, 1922 - 211 pages

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Page 211 - That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord, The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans, That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat Almost to bursting; and the big round tears Cours'd one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool, Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, Augmenting it with tears.
Page 145 - England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed ; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam, A body of England's, breathing English air, Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
Page 207 - I've seen behind it. The only failure a man ought to fear is failure in cleaving to the purpose he sees to be best.
Page 86 - ... at their last end, or before perhaps, which is no otherwise than to steal a goose and stick down a feather, rob a thousand to relieve ten...
Page 84 - Howsoever, it is a kind of policy in these dayes, to prefix a phantastical title to a book which is to be sold : for as larks come down to a day-net, many vain readers will tarry and stand gazing, like silly passengers, at an antick picture in a painter's shop, that will not look at a judicious piece.
Page 100 - But whatever judgment may be passed on the poems of this noble minor, it seems we must take them as we find them, and be content : for they are the last we shall ever have from him. He is at best, he says, but an intruder into the groves of Parnassus ; he never lived in a garret, like thorough-bred poets, and though he once roved a careless mountaineer in the Highlands of Scotland, he has not of late enjoyed this advantage.
Page 99 - THE poesy of this young Lord belongs to the class which neither gods nor men are said to permit. Indeed, we do not recollect to have seen a quantity of verse with so few deviations in either direction from that exact standard. His effusions are spread over a dead flat, and can no more get above or below the level, than if they Were so much stagnant water.
Page 126 - Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend. Nativity, once in the main of light, Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd, Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Page 21 - These old houses may be somewhat dark and damp but what was good enough for our fathers is good enough for us!
Page 207 - I doubt not but there is some truth in that rant of a mad poet, that there is a pleasure in being mad, which none but madmen know.

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