Was andere dazu sagen - Rezension schreiben
Es wurden keine Rezensionen gefunden.
Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
appearance artist beautiful become believe better body called carried cause character Church comes course death drawing Dryden England English engraving etching expression eyes face fact fear feel friends give given hand happy head heart heaven hope hour idea illustrations important interest John kind known land leave less light lines live look Magazine matter means meeting mind nature negative never night object once passed perhaps play poet political poor position possible present printed produce question reason regard result round seems seen side Smith soon soul spirit stand streets taken tell things thought town true truth turn young
Seite 84 - Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, Drinking is the soldier's pleasure : Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure, Sweet is pleasure after pain. Soothed with the sound the king grew vain; Fought all his battles o'er again, And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain!
Seite 82 - 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.
Seite 85 - Changed his hand and check'd his pride. He chose a mournful Muse Soft pity to infuse: He sung Darius great and good, By too severe a fate Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen.
Seite 244 - First follow Nature, and your judgment frame By her just standard, which is still the same: Unerring Nature, still divinely bright, One clear, unchanged, and universal light, Life, force, and beauty, must to all impart, At once the source, and end, and test of Art. Art from that fund each just supply provides; Works without show, and without pomp presides: In some fair body thus th...
Seite 83 - Through all the compass of the notes it ran, The diapason closing full in Man. What passion cannot Music raise and quell? When Jubal struck the chorded shell, His listening brethren stood around, And, wondering, on their faces fell To worship that celestial sound. Less than a god they thought there could not dwell Within the hollow of that shell, That spoke so sweetly, and so well.
Seite 83 - Less than a god they thought there could not dwell Within the hollow of that shell, That spoke so sweetly, and so well. What passion cannot Music raise and quell?
Seite 87 - Dim as the borrowed beams of moon and stars To lonely, weary, wandering travellers, Is reason to the soul; and, as on high Those rolling fires discover but the sky, Not light us here, so reason's glimmering ray Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way, But guide us upward to a better day. And as those nightly tapers disappear, When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere; So pale grows reason at religion's sight; So dies, and so dissolves in supernatural light.
Seite 84 - The sacred organ's praise ? Notes inspiring holy love, Notes that wing their heavenly ways To mend the choirs above. Orpheus could lead the savage race, And trees uprooted left their place Sequacious of the lyre : But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher: When to her organ vocal breath was given, An angel heard, and straight appeared — Mistaking earth for heaven...
Seite 108 - IN the ancient town of Bruges, In the quaint old Flemish city, As the evening shades descended, Low and loud and sweetly blended, Low at times and loud at times, And changing like a poet's rhymes, Rang the beautiful wild chimes From the Belfry in the market Of the ancient town of Bruges.