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Bard beauties Behold better blest boast Bowles brain claim combined common Condemned consideration Critics dare display dull Edinburgh edition English Epic fall fame feel follies fools genius GIFFORD hallowed hand hath head heart hero honour hope inspiration JEFFREY known late learned least leave less live Lord lost lyre mind Muse night notes o'er o’er once pass poem poet's poetical poetry Pope praise prevented Prince PRINTED production prose published quit race raise reason resign Review rhyme rise Satire scenes scribbler seek seems sense sleep smile song Sonnets sons soul sound spare Spirit stage strain taste tell thee themes thine thing thou thousand throng translator Triumphs turn verse voice worthy write yield young youth
Seite 65 - Twas thine own genius gave the final blow, And helped to plant the wound that laid thee low : So the struck eagle, stretched upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart, And winged the shaft that quivered in his heart ; Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel He nursed the pinion which impelled the steel ; While the same plumage that had warmed his nest Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast.
Seite 21 - And each adventure so sublimely tells, That all who view the 'idiot in his glory' Conceive the bard the hero of the story. Shall gentle Coleridge pass unnoticed here, To turgid ode and tumid stanza dear? Though themes of innocence amuse him best, Yet still obscurity's a welcome guest. If Inspiration should her aid refuse To him who takes a pixy for a muse, Yet none in lofty numbers can surpass The bard who soars to elegise an ass.
Seite 20 - ... shows That prose is verse, and verse is merely prose ; Convincing all, by demonstration plain, Poetic souls delight in prose insane ; And Christmas stories tortured into rhyme Contain the essence of the true sublime. Thus, when he tells the tale of Betty Foy, The idiot mother of
Seite 19 - Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books; Or surely you'll grow double : Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks; Why all this toil and trouble?
Seite 6 - d to find or forge a fault; A turn for punning, call it Attic salt; To Jeffrey go, be silent and discreet, His pay is just ten sterling pounds per sheet: Fear not to lie, 'twill seem a sharper hit ; Shrink not from blasphemy, 'twill pass for wit; Care not for feeling — pass your proper jest, And stand a critic, hated yet caress'd.
Seite 6 - Take hackney'd jokes from MILLER, got by rote, With just enough of learning to misquote , A mind well skill'd to find or forge a fault ; A turn for punning, call it Attic salt ; To JEFFREY go, be silent and discreet, His pay is just ten sterling pounds per sheet : 70 Fear not to lie, 'twill seem a lucky hit; Shrink not from blasphemy, 'twill pass for wit ; Care not for feeling — pass your proper jest, And stand a critic, hated yet caress'd.
Seite 13 - Now forging scrolls, now foremost in the fight, Not quite a felon, yet but half a knight, The gibbet or the field prepared to grace ; A mighty mixture of the great and base.