Ethics and æsthetics of modern poetry, by J.B. Selkirk

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Page 138 - Lest she should fail and perish utterly, God, before whom ever lie bare The abysmal deeps of Personality, Plagued her with sore despair. When she would think, where'er she turn'd her sight The airy hand confusion wrought, Wrote, 'Mene, mene...
Page 117 - From jigging veins of rhyming mother wits And such conceits as clownage keeps in pay, We'll lead you to the stately tent of war Where you shall hear the Scythian Tamburlaine Threatening the world with high astounding terms And scourging kingdoms with his conquering sword.
Page 153 - I think this is the authentic sign and seal Of Godship, that it ever waxes glad, And more glad, until gladness blossoms, bursts Into a rage to suffer for mankind, And recommence at sorrow : drops like seed After the blossom, ultimate of all.
Page 210 - A set o' dull conceited hashes Confuse their brains in college classes ! They gang in stirks, and come out asses, Plain truth to speak; An' syne they think to climb Parnassus By dint o
Page 10 - Time, force, and death, Do to this body what extremes you can ; But the strong base and building of my love Is as the very centre of the earth, Drawing all things to it.
Page 165 - TEARS, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge ; So sad, so fresh, the days...
Page 9 - But evil on itself shall back recoil, And mix no more with goodness, when at last, Gathered like scum, and settled to itself, It shall be in eternal restless change Self-fed and self-consumed. If this fail, The pillared firmament is rottenness, And earth's base built on stubble.
Page 225 - The divorce between song and sense had then reached its utmost range; and to all verses connected with music, from a Birth-day Ode down to the libretto of the last new opera, might fairly be applied the solution Figaro gives of the quality of the words of songs, in general, — 'Ce qui ne vaut pas la peine d'etre dit, on le chante...
Page 131 - Glory is like a circle in the water, Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, Till, by br oad spreading, it disperse to naught.
Page 140 - That did love Beauty, only (Beauty seen In all varieties of mould and mind,) And Knowledge for its beauty ; or if Good, Good only for its beauty, seeing not That Beauty, Good, and Knowledge are three sisters That dote upon each other, friends to man, Living together under the same roof, And never can be sunder'd without tears...

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