English bards, and Scotch reviewers; a satire |
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Página 4
... follies , e'en for me to chace , And yield at least amusement in the race : Laugh when I laugh , I seek no other fame , The cry is up , and scribblers are my game : Speed Pegasus ! -ye strains of great and small , Ode ! Epic ! Elegy ...
... follies , e'en for me to chace , And yield at least amusement in the race : Laugh when I laugh , I seek no other fame , The cry is up , and scribblers are my game : Speed Pegasus ! -ye strains of great and small , Ode ! Epic ! Elegy ...
Página 48
... follies o'er the town , 600 To sanction Vice and hunt decorum down : Let wedded strumpets languish o'er DESHAYES , And bless the promise which his form displays ; While GAYTON bounds before the enraptured looks Of hoary Marquises and ...
... follies o'er the town , 600 To sanction Vice and hunt decorum down : Let wedded strumpets languish o'er DESHAYES , And bless the promise which his form displays ; While GAYTON bounds before the enraptured looks Of hoary Marquises and ...
Página 56
... follies pass away ; 710 But who forgives the Senior's ceaseless verse , Whose hairs grow hoary as his rhymes grow worse ? What heterogeneous honours deck the Peer ? Lord , rhymester , petit - maître , pamphleteer * ! * The Earl of ...
... follies pass away ; 710 But who forgives the Senior's ceaseless verse , Whose hairs grow hoary as his rhymes grow worse ? What heterogeneous honours deck the Peer ? Lord , rhymester , petit - maître , pamphleteer * ! * The Earl of ...
Página 63
... follies for his pen to purge ? . Are there no fools whose backs demand the scourge ? Are there no sins for Satire's Bard to greet ? Stalks not gigantic Vice in every street ? Shall Peers or Princes tread pollution's path , And ' scape ...
... follies for his pen to purge ? . Are there no fools whose backs demand the scourge ? Are there no sins for Satire's Bard to greet ? Stalks not gigantic Vice in every street ? Shall Peers or Princes tread pollution's path , And ' scape ...
Página 81
... , 1030 From lips that now may seem imbued with gall , Nor fools nor follies tempt me to despise The meanest thing that crawled beneath my eyes ; G But now so callous grown , so changed since youth AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS . 81.
... , 1030 From lips that now may seem imbued with gall , Nor fools nor follies tempt me to despise The meanest thing that crawled beneath my eyes ; G But now so callous grown , so changed since youth AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS . 81.
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English bards, and Scotch reviewers; a satire George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) Vista completa - 1810 |
Términos y frases comunes
ARTHUR'S seat ballad-mongers Ballads Baviad beauties Behold blest boast BOWLES BOWLES's brain Caledonia's CAMOENS CAPEL LOFFT CARLISLE CATULLUS COCKSPUR STREET Comedies Condemned COTTLE Critics damned dare Deloraine dull Dunciad E'en Edinburgh Review EDITION ENGLISH BARDS Epic fame feel follies fools genius GIFFORD HAFIZ hail HALLAM hallowed hath hero HOLLAND'S honour hope inspiration JAMES CAWTHORN JEFFREY JEFFREY'S JUVENAL LAMBE LITTLE's live Lord BOLINGBROKE LORD BYRON Lord CARLISLE Lord Fanny Lordship luckless lyre Lyrical Ballads Marmion MATILDA Minstrel Muse night numbers o'er once pistol Pixies poem Poesy Poet poet's poetical poetry POPE praise prose published resign rhyme rhymester Satire Satirist scenes SCOTCH REVIEWERS scribbler sleep smile soaring song Sonnets sons soul SOUTHEY SOUTHEY's spare Spirit spurn Stanza STOTT strain taste thee themes thine thing thou throng Tolbooth traduce translator Triumphs verse William of Deloraine worthy write yield
Pasajes populares
Página 63 - Twas thine own genius gave the final blow, And helped to plant the wound that laid thee low. So the struck eagle, stretched upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart, And wing'd the shaft that quivered in his heart.
Página 17 - to shake off toil and trouble, And quit his books, for fear of growing double...
Página 11 - And think'st thou, Scott, by vain conceit perchance, On public taste to foist thy stale romance, Though Murray with his Miller may combine To yield thy muse just half-a-crown per line ? No ! when the sons of song descend to trade, Their bays are sear, their former laurels fade. Let such forego the poet's sacred name, Who rack their brains for lucre, not for fame.
Página 62 - WHITE !t while life was in its spring, And thy young Muse just waved her joyous wing. The spoiler came ; and all thy promise fair, Has sought the grave, to sleep for ever there. Oh ! what a noble heart was here undone, When Science...
Página 18 - ... shows That prose is verse, and verse is merely prose ; Convincing all, by demonstration plain, Poetic souls delight in prose insane ; And Christmas stories tortured into rhyme Contain the essence of the true sublime. Thus, when he tells the tale of Betty Foy, The idiot mother of
Página 12 - To yield thy muse just half-a-crown per line? No! when the sons of song descend to trade, Their bays are sear, their former laurels fade. Let such forego the poet's sacred name, Who rack their brains for lucre, not for fame: Still for stern mammon may they toil in vain!
Página 2 - Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print; A book's a book, although there's nothing in't.
Página 19 - And each adventure so sublimely tells, That all who view the 'idiot in his glory' Conceive the bard the hero of the story. Shall gentle Coleridge pass unnoticed here, To turgid ode and tumid stanza dear? Though themes of innocence amuse him best, Yet still obscurity's a welcome guest. If Inspiration should her aid refuse To him who takes a pixy for a muse, Yet none in lofty numbers can surpass The bard who soars to elegise an ass.
Página 4 - twill pass for wit; Care not for feeling — pass your proper jest, And stand a critic, hated yet caress'd. And shall we own such judgment? no — as soon Seek roses in December — ice in June ; Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff; Believe a woman or an epitaph, Or any other thing that's false...
Página 4 - A mind well skilled to find or forge a fault, A turn for punning, call it Attic salt ; To JEFFREY go, be silent and discreet, His pay is just ten sterling pounds per sheet : Fear not to lie, 'twill seem a lucky hit, Shrink not from blasphemy, 'twill pass for wit ; Care not for feeling— pass your proper jest, And stand a critic hated yet caressed.