The Library of Literary Criticism of English and American Authors: 1785-1824Charles Wells Moulton Moulton publishing Company, 1902 - American literature |
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Common terms and phrases
Adam Smith admirable affection American anon appeared beautiful Boswell Burke character Charles Charles Wesley charm Christian Cowper criticism death Dictionary of National Edinburgh Edinburgh Review edition Edmund Burke Edward Gibbon Eighteenth Century elegant England English Literature English Poetry Essays fame feel Franklin genius GEORGE Gibbon Gilbert White heart HENRY History of English honour Horace Horace Walpole human JAMES John Wesley Johnson labour language Letters literary lived Lord manner Memoirs ment merit mind moral National Biography nature ness never original Ossian passion perhaps person philosopher poems poet poetical poetry political Priestley Prose reader Robert Burns SAMUEL Samuel Johnson Scotland Scottish seems sense sentiment Sheridan Sir Joshua society song spirit style taste things THOMAS Thomas Paine thought tion truth verse Walpole Washington WILLIAM William Cowper writings written wrote
Popular passages
Page 110 - In the evening I went very unwillingly to a society in Aldersgate Street, where one was reading Luther's preface to the Epistle to the Romans. About a quarter before nine, while he was describing the change which God works in the heart through faith in Christ, I felt my heart strangely warmed.
Page 195 - He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument.
Page 7 - Poetry is not like reasoning, a power to be exerted according to the determination of the will. A man cannot say, "I will compose poetry." The greatest poet even cannot say it; for the mind in creation is as a fading coal, which some invisible influence, like an inconstant wind, awakens to transitory brightness...
Page 288 - Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining, And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining; Though equal to all things, for all things unfit, Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit : For a patriot, too cool ; for a drudge, disobedient ; And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient. In short, 'twas his fate, unemploy'd, or in place, Sir, To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor.
Page 288 - Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much ; Who, born for the Universe, narrow'd his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind. Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote...
Page 180 - It was on the day, or rather night, of the 27th of June 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last lines of the last page in a summer-house in my garden. After laying down my pen, I took several turns in a berccau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains.
Page 80 - The Body Of Benjamin Franklin, Printer, (Like the cover of an old book, Its contents torn out, And stript of its lettering and gilding,) Lies here, food for worms. But the work shall not be lost, For it will, as he believed, appear once more, In a new and more elegant edition, Revised and corrected By THE AUTHOR.
Page 6 - The sound must seem an echo to the sense. Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar...
Page 5 - If deed of honour did thee ever please, Guard them, and him within protect from harms. He can requite thee; for he knows the charms That call fame on such gentle acts as these, And he can spread thy name o'er lands and seas, Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms. Lift not thy spear against the Muses...
Page 5 - I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew, Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers ; I had rather hear a brazen canstick turn'd, Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree ; And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, Nothing so much as mincing poetry ; — 'Tis like the forc'd gait of a shuffling nag.