Essays in Romantic LiteratureMacmillam and Company, limited, 1919 - 438 pagina's |
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Pagina 28
... into every Western tongue , and inter- laced with every other story that seemed true . continuous legend of Western conquerors was woven A together , reaching right down from the Argonauts who sought 28 THE SPRINGS OF ROMANCE IN.
... into every Western tongue , and inter- laced with every other story that seemed true . continuous legend of Western conquerors was woven A together , reaching right down from the Argonauts who sought 28 THE SPRINGS OF ROMANCE IN.
Pagina 32
... true . Its elements are largely mythological . But that view will not yield a definition of Romance . If it did , all mythologies would be obviously romantic . But are they ? There is nothing romantic in a savage's belief that the ...
... true . Its elements are largely mythological . But that view will not yield a definition of Romance . If it did , all mythologies would be obviously romantic . But are they ? There is nothing romantic in a savage's belief that the ...
Pagina 40
... true of each one of us . Its truth strikes as a forgotten face strikes by its strange familiarity . At such moments we under- stand that darker utterance , ' The Kingdom of God is within you . ' A sense of universal affinity comes into ...
... true of each one of us . Its truth strikes as a forgotten face strikes by its strange familiarity . At such moments we under- stand that darker utterance , ' The Kingdom of God is within you . ' A sense of universal affinity comes into ...
Pagina 76
... true . But I have never been a street - preacher or hypocrite ( cafard ) , selling my vain dreams to ignorant men . I'd rather row in a galley , or labour with swollen hands in fields that no one has heard of , than cease to be a ...
... true . But I have never been a street - preacher or hypocrite ( cafard ) , selling my vain dreams to ignorant men . I'd rather row in a galley , or labour with swollen hands in fields that no one has heard of , than cease to be a ...
Pagina 78
... true poet and have de- served as well of my country as you , false impostor and braggart that you are . ' All your barking will not strip me of the laurel wreath I have deserved for service done to the French language . ' Undaunted by ...
... true poet and have de- served as well of my country as you , false impostor and braggart that you are . ' All your barking will not strip me of the laurel wreath I have deserved for service done to the French language . ' Undaunted by ...
Overige edities - Alles bekijken
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
Adonis adventure allusion Amyot Antony artist Beauty Bellay Cæsar called Cato century Chaucer classic colour Coriolanus Court Cynthia's Revels death Dekker delight doth drama Elizabethan England English Europe eyes Fitton Fleay France French French poetry George Wyndham Greece Greek hand hath Henry Herbert heroes honour Jonson Julius Cæsar king Lady language Latin legends literary literature lord Harbert Lucrece Lucullus Lycurgus lyrical Mary Fitton ment mind never night North Ovid Parallel Lives passage passion Pericles play Pléiade Plutarch poem poet Poetaster poetry political Pompey praise prose Renaissance rhyme Romance Rome Ronsard Satiromastix Shake Shakespeare song Song of Roland Sonnets speech Spenser strange sweet thee theme Themistocles theory things thou translation Troilus trouvères truth turn unto Venus Venus and Adonis verse Villon words writes written wrote
Populaire passages
Pagina 256 - Like to the senators of the antique Rome, With the plebeians swarming at their heels, Go forth and fetch their conquering Caesar in : As, by a lower but loving likelihood, Were now the general of our gracious empress, As in good time he may, from Ireland coming, Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, How many would the peaceful city quit, To welcome him ! much more, and much more cause, Did they this Harry.
Pagina 355 - What is your substance, whereof are you made, That millions of strange shadows on you tend? Since every one hath, every one, one shade, And you, but one, can every shadow lend. Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit Is poorly imitated after you ; On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set, And you in Grecian tires are painted new: Speak of the spring and...
Pagina 281 - Yes, trust them not, for there is an upstart crow, beautified with our feathers, that with his tiger's heart wrapped in a player's hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you; and being an absolute Johannes Factotum, is in his own conceit the only Shake-scene in a country.
Pagina 372 - Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now; Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross, Join with the spite of fortune...
Pagina 312 - Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest, From his moist cabinet mounts up on high, And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast The sun ariseth in his majesty; Who doth the world so gloriously behold, That cedar-tops and hills seem burnish'd gold.
Pagina 355 - ... with him. Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew; Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose : They were but sweet, but figures of delight, Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. Yet seem'd it winter still, and, you away, As with your shadow I with these did play.
Pagina 195 - This was the most unkindest cut of all; For when the noble Caesar saw him stab, Ingratitude, more strong than traitors...
Pagina 340 - FROM fairest creatures we desire increase, That thereby beauty's rose might never die, But as the riper should by time decease, His tender heir might bear his memory : But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel, Making a famine where abundance lies, Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel. Thou that art now the world's fresh...
Pagina 247 - I will make them conform, or I will harry them out of the land, or else worse,"
Pagina 366 - To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold Have from the forests shook three summers...