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accent action allegory alliterating Anglo-Saxon ballad beautiful beginning Beowulf blank verse called Century character Chaucer classic combined comedy common compared couplet course death drama early effect English epic example expression fall famous feel figure Finally foot four French Further Germanic give Greek hand harmony heavy hero human iambic imitated important kind King language later Latin legend light light syllables lines literature Lost lyric marked means measure metaphor metre metrical Milton moral movement nature object origin pause period person play poem poet poetical poetry popular quantity regular rhythm rime rule says scheme sense Shakspere short simile simply slurred song sonnet sort sounds speech stanza story stress style syllables thing thou thought tion tragedy trochaic trope unaccented verse whole word-accent
Page 120 - The voice of the Lord is upon the waters: the God of glory thundereth: the Lord is upon many waters.
Page 120 - These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty, thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Page 112 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn. Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Page 239 - Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill...
Page 158 - ... apt numbers, fit quantity of syllables, and the sense variously drawn out from one verse into another...
Page 131 - I'll leave you till night: you are welcome to Elsinore. Ros. Good my lord ! [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Ham. Ay, so, God be wi' you : — Now I am alone. O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I ! Is it not monstrous, that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit...
Page 130 - But neither breath of morn, when she ascends With charm of earliest birds; nor rising sun On this delightful land; nor herb, fruit, flower, Glistering with dew; nor fragrance after showers; Nor grateful evening mild; nor silent night, With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon, Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet But wherefore all night long shine these?
Page 200 - You haste away so soon: As yet the early-rising Sun Has not attained his noon. Stay, stay, Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having prayed together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a Spring; As quick a growth to meet decay As you, or any thing.