The Works of the English Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, Volume 14

Front Cover
Samuel Johnson
C. Bathurst, 1779 - English poetry

From inside the book

What people are saying - Write a review

We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.

Other editions - View all

Common terms and phrases

Popular passages

Page 105 - From harmony, from heavenly harmony, This universal frame began : When Nature underneath a heap of jarring atoms lay, And could not heave her head, The tuneful voice was heard from high. Arise ye more than dead. Then cold and hot, and moist and dry, In order to their stations leap, And music's power obey. From harmony, from heavenly harmony, This universal frame began : From harmony to harmony Through all the compass of the notes it ran, The diapason closing full in man.
Page 106 - Less than a god they thought there could not dwell Within the hollow of that shell, That spoke so sweetly, and so well. What passion cannot Music raise and quell?
Page 113 - And unburied remain Inglorious on the plain : Give the vengeance due To the valiant crew ! Behold how they toss their torches on high, How they point to the Persian abodes And glittering temples of their hostile gods.
Page 113 - Thais led the way To light him to his prey, And like another Helen, fired another Troy! Thus, long ago, Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow, While organs yet were mute; Timotheus to his breathing flute And sounding lyre, Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.
Page 113 - In flower of youth and beauty's pride: — Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave None but the brave None but the brave deserves the fair...
Page 87 - FAREWELL, too little, and too lately known, Whom I began to think and call my own: For sure our souls were near allied, and thine Cast in the same poetic mould with mine.
Page 113 - ... blessings are a treasure, Drinking is the soldier's pleasure: Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure, Sweet is pleasure after pain. Soothed with the sound, the...
Page 58 - In thy felonious heart though venom lies, It does but touch thy Irish pen, and dies. Thy genius calls thee not to purchase fame In keen Iambics, but mild Anagram. Leave writing Plays, and choose for thy command Some peaceful province in Acrostic land : There thou...
Page 11 - tis sure no higher Than matter, put in motion, may aspire : Souls that can scarce ferment their mass of clay : So drossy, so divisible are...
Page 73 - WELL then, the promised hour is come at last, The present age of wit obscures the past: Strong were our sires, and as they fought they writ, Conquering with force of arms and dint of wit: Theirs was the giant race before the flood ; And thus, when Charles return'd, our empire stood. Like Janus...

Bibliographic information