Lives of Eminent Novelists and Dramatists

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F. Warne, 1887 - 617 pages

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Page 472 - Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, How often have I loitered o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene ! How often have I paused on every charm.
Page 241 - With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and...
Page 241 - With thee conversing I forget all time ; All seasons and their change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds...
Page 575 - He loved the world that hated him : the tear That dropped upon his Bible was sincere : Assailed by scandal and the tongue of strife, His only answer was, a blameless life ; And he that forged, and he that threw the dart, Had each a brother's interest in his heart.
Page 341 - Of genius, that power which constitutes a poet ; that quality, without which judgment is cold, and knowledge is inert ; that energy, which collects, combines, amplifies, and animates ; the superiority must, with some hesitation, be allowed to Dryden.
Page 96 - A couple of lobsters ; ay, that would have done very well ; two shillings — tarts, a shilling : but you will drink a glass of wine with me, though you supped so much before your usual time only to spare my pocket? — 'No, we had rather talk with you than drink with you.
Page 341 - Dryden is sometimes vehement and rapid; Pope is always smooth, uniform, and gentle. Dryden's page is a natural field, rising into inequalities, and diversified by the varied exuberance of abundant vegetation ; Pope's is a velvet lawn, shaven by the scythe, and leveled by the roller.
Page 170 - He reads much ; He is a great observer and he looks Quite through the deeds of men ; he loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony ; he hears no music ; Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort As if he mock'd himself and scorn'd his spirit That could be moved to smile at any thing.
Page 226 - ... tis nature wrought up to an higher pitch. The plot, the characters, the wit, the passions, the descriptions, are all exalted above the level of common converse, as high as the imagination of the poet can carry them, with proportion to verisimility.
Page 470 - I had rather be an under-turnkey in Newgate. I was up early and late ; I was browbeat by the master, hated for my ugly face by the mistress, worried by the boys...

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