The Poetical Works of the Late Thomas Warton, and Poet Laureate, Band 1

University Press, 1802

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Seite 181 - If chance the radiant sun with farewell sweet Extend his evening beam, the fields revive, The birds their notes renew, and bleating herds Attest their joy, that hill and valley rings.
Seite 129 - The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the way of righteousness.
Seite 56 - Oer the long roof their wild embroidery drew; Where SUPERSTITION, with capricious hand In many a maze the wreathed window plann'd, With hues romantic ting'd the gorgeous pane, To fill with holy light the wondrous fane ; To aid the builder's model, richly rude, By no Vitruvian symmetry subdued...
Seite xxvii - The Reason why the authours which are yet read of the sixteenth Century are so little understood is that they are read alone, and no help is borrowed from those who lived with them or before them.
Seite 13 - He blends the speaker's with the patriot's fire ; Bold to conceive, nor timorous to conceal, What Britons dare to think, he dares to tell.
Seite 62 - Such are thy Pictures, Kneller. Such thy Skill, That Nature seems obedient to thy Will: Comes out, and meets thy Pencil in the draught: Lives there, and wants but words to speak her thought.
Seite 92 - Spires the black pine, while through the naked street, Once haunt of tradeful merchants, springs the grass : Here columns heap'd on prostrate columns, torn From their firm base, increase the mouldering mass. Far as the sight can pierce, appear the spoils Of sunk magnificence ! a blended scene Of moles, fanes, arches, domes, and palaces, Where, with his brother Horror, Ruin sits.
Seite lix - INTRODUCTION. On the Poetry of the Gallic or Celtic nations, as far back as it can be traced. On that of the Goths, its introduction into these islands by the Saxons and Danes, and its duration. On the origin of rhyme among the Franks, the Saxons, and Provencaux.
Seite 20 - Bound on his maiden thigh the martial blade : Bade him the steel for British freedom draw. And Oxford taught the deeds that Cressy saw.
Seite 16 - Ev'n now, confess'd to my adoring eyes, In awful ranks thy gifted sons arise, Tuning to knightly tale his British reeds, Thy genuine bards immortal Chaucer leads : His hoary head o'erlooks the gazing quire, And beams on all around celestial fire.

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