A Final Appeal to the Literary Public, Relative to Pope: In Reply to Certain Observations of Mr. Roscoe, in His Edition of that Poet's Works. To which are Added, Some Remarks on Lord Byron's Conversations, as Far as They Relate to the Same Subject and the Author. In Letters to a Literary Friend |
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admitted adopted affected answer appears arguments beautiful believe Blount Bowles Bowles's called character charge circumstance collection considered copies corrected correspondence criticism Curll DEAR SIR edition edition of Pope editor Epistle equally examined excellence extracts fact feel friends genius give given hand heart higher order highest Homer honourable hope idea instances kind Lady leave less letters lines Lord Lord Byron manner means mind moral narrative nature never object observations omitted opinion order of poetry original particular passages PASSIONS person placed poem poet poetical poetry Pope Pope's principles printed prove published quoted rank reader reason remark repeat respect Roscoe Roscoe's satirical seems seen sense sent sentiments Shakespeare shew speaks sublime suppose surreptitious edition taken thing thought tion transcribed truth turn volume whole write written
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Strona 120 - How oft upon yon eminence our pace Has slacken'd to a pause, and we have borne The ruffling wind, scarce conscious that it blew, While Admiration, feeding at the eye, And still unsated, dwelt upon the scene.
Strona 89 - First follow Nature, and your judgment frame By her just standard, which is still the same: Unerring Nature! still divinely bright, One clear...
Strona 153 - I NEVER hear the sound of thy glad bells, Oxford, and chime harmonious, but I say, Sighing to think how time has worn away, Some spirit speaks in the sweet tone that swells, Heard after years of absence, from the vale Where Cherwell winds.
Strona 68 - ART," and that they are therefore, per se, more poetical. ' In like manner those PASSIONS of the human heart, which belong to Nature in general, are, per se, more adapted to the HIGHER SPECIES of Poetry, than those which are derived from incidental and transient MANNERS.
Strona 121 - Stand, never overlook'd, our fav'rite elms, That screen the herdsman's solitary hut ; While far beyond, and overthwart the stream, That, as with molten glass, inlays the vale, The sloping land recedes into the clouds ; Displaying on its varied side the grace Of hedge-row beauties numberless, square tow'r, Tall spire, from which the sound of cheerful bells Just undulates upon the list'ning ear, Groves, heaths, and smoking villages, remote.
Strona 120 - Here Ouse, slow winding through a level plain Of spacious meads with cattle sprinkled o'er, Conducts the eye along his sinuous course Delighted.
Strona 168 - EC required an answer : AP having never had, nor intending to have, any private correspondence with the said EC, gives it him in this manner. That he knows no such person as PT ; that he believes he hath no such collection ; and that he thinks the whole a forgery, and shall not trouble himself at all about it.
Strona 152 - There is strange music in the stirring wind, When lowers the autumnal eve, and all alone To the dark wood's cold covert thou art gone, Whose ancient trees on the rough slope reclined Rock, and at times scatter their tresses sere.
Strona 177 - I command the prospect of twenty or thirty, in one of the finest promenades in the world, every moment that I take my eye off from the paper. If variety of diversions and new objects be capable of driving our friends out of our minds, I have the best excuse imaginable for forgetting you : for I have slid, I cannot tell how, into all the amusements of this place : my whole day is shared by the pump-assemblies, the walks, the chocolatehouses, raffling-shops, plays, medleys, &c.
Strona 150 - How sweet the tuneful bells responsive peal ! As when, at opening morn, the fragrant breeze Breathes on the trembling sense of wan disease, So piercing to my heart their force I feel ! And hark ! with lessening cadence now they fall, And now along the white and level tide They fling their melancholy music wide, Bidding me many a tender thought recall Of...