Notes on style: Personal style; The art of style. Democratic art, with special reference to Walt Whitman. Landscape. Nature myths and allegories. Is poetry at bottom a criticism of life? A review of Matthew Arnold's selection from Wordsworth. Is music the type or measure of all art? The pathos of the rose in poetry. A comparison of Elizabethan with Victorian poetry. AppendixChapman and Hall, 1890 |
Common terms and phrases
æsthetical allegory antique Arnold artistic Ausonius beauty bloom Byron Catullus classical colour conception criticism Democracy Democratic Art divine drama earth elements Elizabethan Elizabethan poetry emotion English enthusiasm epic epoch essay euphuism expression F. W. H. Myers fact faculty fancy feudal figurative art flower force genius Goethe Greek human ideal ideas idyll imaginative intellectual Keats landscape language Latin less literature living lyric man's Matthew Arnold mind modern moral mythology numbers painting pantheism passages passion Pater perception personality poems poet's poetic poets Poliziano polytheism present prose qualities race reality recognise regard religion religious Roden Noel rosa rose sense sensuous Shakespeare Shelley Simplon Pass song Sophocles soul spirit stanza style suggested sweetness symbols sympathy taste theism Theocritus theology things thou tion tone touch truth universe utterance verse Victorian Victorian literature Virgil Walt Whitman Whitman words Wordsworth writers καὶ
Popular passages
Page 252 - Will no one tell me what she sings? — Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again?
Page 233 - Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks : methinks I see her as an eagle, mewing her mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full mid-day beam...
Page 117 - His part, while the one Spirit's plastic stress Sweeps through the dull dense world, compelling there, All new successions to the forms they wear; Torturing th...
Page 173 - One lesson, shepherd, let us two divide, Taught both by what she shows, and what conceals • Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
Page 111 - What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms were then to me An appetite ; a feeling and a love That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, or any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Page 231 - tis the soul of peace ; Of all the virtues 'tis nearest kin to heaven ; It makes men look like gods. The best of men That e'er wore earth about him was a sufferer, A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit, The first true gentleman that ever breath'd.
Page 116 - Life of Life, thy lips enkindle With their love the breath between them; And thy smiles before they dwindle Make the cold air fire; then screen them In those looks, where whoso gazes Faints, entangled in their mazes.
Page 267 - Do not all charms fly At the mere touch of cold philosophy ? There was an awful rainbow once in heaven : We know her woof, her texture ; she is given In the dull catalogue of common things. Philosophy will clip an Angel's wings, Conquer all mysteries by rule and line, Empty the haunted air and gnomed mine — Unweave a rainbow...
Page 253 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Page 250 - SWIFTLY walk over the western wave, Spirit of Night ! Out of the misty eastern cave, Where all the long and lone daylight Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear, Which make thee terrible and dear, — Swift be thy flight ! Wrap thy form in a mantle gray, Star-inwrought ! Blind with thine hair the eyes of day, Kiss her until she be wearied out, Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land, Touching all with thine opiate wand.