The Works of John Dryden: Now First Collected ...

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Seite 172 - Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower...
Seite 171 - 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...
Seite 476 - Dryden knew more of a man in his general nature, and Pope in his local manners. The notions of Dryden were formed by comprehensive speculation, and those of Pope by minute attention. There is more dignity in the knowledge of Dryden, and more certainty in that of Pope.
Seite 477 - 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.
Seite 318 - To take up half on trust, and half to try, Name it not faith, but bungling bigotry. Both knave and fool, the merchant we may call, To pay great sums, and to compound the small, For who would break with Heaven, and would not break for all?
Seite 474 - Thy reliques, Rowe, to this fair urn we trust, And sacred, place by Dryden's awful dust; Beneath a rude and nameless stone he lies, , To which thy tomb shall guide inquiring eyes. . '• ' Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest! Blest in thy genius, in thy love too blest ! One grateful woman to thy fame supplies What a whole thankless land to his denies.
Seite 213 - But he has now another taste of wit; And, to confess a truth, (though out of time), Grows weary of his long-loved mistress rhyme. Passion's too fierce to be in fetters bound, And nature flies him like enchanted ground...
Seite 191 - His style is boisterous and rough-hewn, his rhyme incorrigibly lewd, and his numbers perpetually harsh and ill-sounding. The little talent which he has, is fancy. He sometimes labours with a thought ; but, with the pudder he makes to bring it into the world...
Seite 380 - The father had descended for the son, For only you are lineal to the throne. Thus when the state one Edward did depose, A greater Edward in his room arose. But now, not I, but poetry is curs'd, For Tom the Second reigns like Tom the First. But let 'em not mistake my patron's part, Nor call his charity their own desert. Yet this I prophesy: thou shalt be seen (Tho...
Seite 107 - In the ludicrous distresses, which, by the laws of comedy, folly is often involved in ; he sunk into such a mixture of piteous pusillanimity, and a consternation so ruefully ridiculous and inconsolable, that when he had shook you, to a fatigue of laughter, it became a moot point, whether you ought not to have pitied him.

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