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appears behold Bibliomania boke booksellers bound bring charm contains copy dead delight divine doth doubt dream edition English Epigrams eyes fair fall fame fancy fear feel fire foes friends give grace hand happy hath head heart hope interesting John labour learned leaves less letters LIBRARY lies light lines live look lost matter meet mind Muse never o'er once original pain play poem poet poor praise present printed published rage reader rest rise round sacred seek sense sent shine song soul spirit stand sweet taste tell thee things THOMAS thou thought translation turns verse virtue volume wise write written
136. oldal - LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER Much have I travelled in the realms of gold, And many goodly states and kingdoms seen ; Round many western islands have I been, Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. Oft of one wide expanse had I been told, That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared...
142. oldal - Around me I behold, Where'er these casual eyes are cast, The mighty minds of old : My never-failing friends are they, With whom I converse day by day. With them I take delight in weal And seek relief in woe ; And while I understand and feel How much to them I owe, My cheeks have often been bedew'd With tears of thoughtful gratitude.
63. oldal - Wise men have said, are wearisome ; who reads Incessantly, and to his reading brings not A spirit and judgment equal or superior, (And what he brings what needs he elsewhere seek?) Uncertain and unsettled still remains, Deep versed in books, and shallow in himself, Crude or intoxicate, collecting toys And trifles for choice matters, worth a sponge ; As children gathering pebbles on the shore.
39. oldal - The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage! My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further, to make thee a room: Thou art a monument without a tomb, And art alive still while thy book doth live And we have wits to read and praise to give.
40. oldal - To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe. He was not of an age, but for all time! And all the Muses still were in their prime, When, like Apollo, he came forth to warm Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm! Nature herself was proud of his designs And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines!
137. oldal - As one who, destined from his friends to part, Regrets his loss, but hopes again erewhile To share their converse and enjoy their smile. And tempers as he may affliction's dart; Thus, loved associates, chiefs of elder art, Teachers of wisdom, who could once beguile My tedious hours, and lighten every toil, I now resign you...
40. oldal - Yet must I not give Nature all; thy art, My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part. For though the poet's matter nature be, His art doth give the fashion; and, that he Who casts to write a living line, must sweat, (Such as thine are) and strike the second heat Upon the Muses...
55. oldal - For with [the] flowery earth The golden pomp is come. The golden pomp is come; For now each tree does wear, Made of her pap and gum, Rich beads of amber here. Now reigns the Rose, and now Th' Arabian dew besmears My uncontrolled brow, And my retorted hairs.
41. oldal - Advanc'd, and made a Constellation there! Shine forth, thou Starre of Poets, and with rage, Or influence, chide, or cheere the drooping Stage; Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourn'd like night, And despaires day, but for thy Volumes light.