The Quarterly Review, Volume 115
William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, William Smith, Sir John Murray (IV), Rowland Edmund Prothero (Baron Ernle), George Walter Prothero
John Murray, 1864 - English literature
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Page 457 - tis true I have gone here and there And made myself a motley to the view, Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear, Made old offences of affections new.
Page 448 - The forward violet thus did I chide : Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells, If not from my love's breath ? The purple pride Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.
Page 452 - And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight: Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before. But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored...
Page 87 - You would have thought the very windows spake, So many greedy looks of young and old Through casements darted their desiring eyes Upon his visage ; and that all the walls, With painted imagery, had said at once — "Jesu preserve thee ! welcome, Bolingbroke !" Whilst he, from one side to the other turning, Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed's neck, Bespake them thus — " I thank you, countrymen : " And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along.
Page 434 - As the soule of Euphorbus was thought to live in Pythagoras: so the sweete wittie soule of Ovid lives in mellifluous and honytongued Shakespeare, witnes his Venus and Adonis, his Lucrece, his sugred Sonnets among his private friends, &c.
Page 562 - by divers sundry old authentic histories and chronicles it is manifestly declared and expressed that this realm of England is an empire, and so hath been accepted in the world, governed by one supreme head and king, having the dignity and royal estate of the Imperial Crown of the same...
Page 461 - O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests, and is never shaken ; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out ev'n to the edge of doom.
Page 452 - And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight. Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before. But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.
Page 461 - Not by our feeling, but by others' seeing. For why should others' false adulterate eyes Give salutation to my sportive blood ? Or on my frailties why are frailer spies, Which in their wills count bad what I think good ; No; I am that I am; and they that level At my abuses reckon up their own. I may be straight though they themselves be bevel; By their rank thoughts my deeds must not be shown...
Page 437 - IN the old age black was not counted fair, Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name; But now is black beauty's successive heir, And beauty...