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340. oldal - Ambergris on shore. He cast (of which we rather boast) The Gospel's Pearl upon our Coast. And in these Rocks for us did frame A Temple, where to sound his Name. Oh let our Voice his Praise exalt, Till it arrive at Heaven's Vault : Which thence (perhaps) rebounding may Echo beyond the Mexique Bay.
49. oldal - Now, therein, of all sciences (I speak still of human, and according to the human conceit) is our poet the monarch. For he doth not only show the way, but giveth so sweet a prospect into the way, as will entice any man to enter into it : nay he doth, as if your journey should lie through a fair vineyard, at the very first give you a .cluster of grapes, that full of that taste you may long to pass further.
55. oldal - I will not wish unto you the ass's ears of Midas, nor to be driven by a poet's verses (as Bubonax was) to hang himself, nor to be rhymed to death, as is said to be done in Ireland; yet thus much curse I must send you, in the behalf of all poets, that while you live, you live in love, and never get favour for lacking skill of a Sonnet, and, when you die, your memory die from the earth for want of an Epitaph.
47. oldal - ... the heavenly Maker of that maker, who having made man to His own likeness, set him beyond and over all the works of that second nature ; which in nothing he showeth so much as in poetry ; when, with the force of a divine breath, he bringeth things forth surpassing her doings...
342. oldal - That majesty, which through thy work doth reign, Draws the devout, deterring the profane. And things divine thou treat'st of in such state As them preserves, and thee inviolate. At once delight and horror on us seize, Thou sing'st with so much gravity and ease ; And above human flight dost soar aloft With plume so strong, so equal, and so soft.
56. oldal - I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe; Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertain, Oft turning others' leaves to see if thence would flow Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sun-burned brain.
336. oldal - Unkind to a beast that loveth me! Had it lived long, I do not know Whether it, too, might have done so As Sylvio did; his gifts might be Perhaps as false, or more, than he. But I am sure, for aught that I Could in so short a time espy, Thy love was far more better than The love of false and cruel man.
51. oldal - ... since the Holy Scripture (wherein there is no uncleanness) hath whole parts in it poetical, and that even our Saviour Christ vouchsafed to use the flowers of it ; since all his kinds are not only in their united forms, but in their severed dissections fully commendable ; I think, and think I think rightly, the laurel crown appointed for triumphant captains, doth worthily, of all other learnings, honor the poet's triumph.
335. oldal - But Sylvio soon had me beguiled: This waxed tame, while he grew wild, And quite regardless of my smart, Left me his Fawn, but took his Heart. Thenceforth I set myself to play My solitary time away With this, and very well content Could so mine idle life have spent.