Illustrations of Anglo-Saxon Poetry

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Harding and Lepard, 1826 - English language - 286 pages
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Page xxxi - Remove their swelling epithets thick laid As varnish on a harlot's cheek, the rest, Thin sown with aught of profit or delight, Will far be found unworthy to compare With Sion's songs, to all true tastes excelling, Where God is praised aright, and Godlike men, The Holiest of Holies, and his saints; Such are from God inspired, not such from thee; Unless where moral virtue is expressed By light of nature not in all quite lost.
Page vi - Influenced by the desire of reducing every thing to some classical standard, — a prejudice not uncommon in the age in which he wrote, — he endeavours, with greater zeal than success, to show that the writers whom he was recommending to the world, observed the legitimate rules of Latin prosody, and measured their feet by syllabic quantity.
Page 272 - It is unhigh and low ; When thou art in it The heel-ways are low, The side-ways unhigh. The roof is built Thy breast full nigh ; So thou shalt in earth Dwell full cold, Dim, and dark. Doorless is that house, And dark it is within ; There thou art fast detained, And Death holds the key. Loathly is that earth-house, And grim to dwell in ; There thou shalt dwell And worms shall share thee. Thus thou art laid And leavest thy...
Page lxxv - IN december, when the dayes draw to be short, After november, when the nights wax noysome and long; As I past by a place privily at a port, I saw one sit by himself making a song : His last * talk of trifles, who told with his tongue That few were fast i' th
Page 69 - All dauntless then, and stern beneath his shield, The hero rose, and" toward the rocky cliff Bore gallantly in helm and mail of proof; In one man's strength. (not such the coward's art) Confiding. Now that fabric might he spy, He that so oft had in the crash of arms Done goodly service. Firm rose the stone-wrought vault, a living stream Burst from the barrow, red with ceaseless flame, • That turret glow'd ; nor lived there soul of man Might tempt the dread abyss, nor feel its rage. So watch'd the...
Page lxxiv - Lenten ys come with love to toune, With blosmen ant with briddes roune, That al this blisse bryngeth : Dayes-eyes in this dales; Notes suete of nyhtegales; 5 Uch foul song singeth.
Page 186 - Caedmon," says SHARON TURNER, " we are reminded of Milton, — of a ' Paradise Lost ' in rude miniature." Conybeare advances, " The pride, rebellion, and punishments of Satan and his princes have a resemblance to Milton so remarkable, that much of this portion might be almost literally translated by a cento of lines from the great poet."^ A recent Saxonist, in noticing " the creation of Credmon as beautiful," adds, " It is still more interesting from its singular correspondence, even in expression,...
Page xi - Saxon poetry deserves to be quoted ; he thinks it belongs to the trochaic or dactylic species. It is to a metre of this kind, in which emphasis holds the place of quantity, that I would refer the verses of the Anglo-Saxons. They will be found to consist, for the most part, of feet of two or three syllables, each having the emphasis on the first, and analogous therefore to the trochee or dactyl, sometimes perhaps to the spondee of classic metre.
Page 222 - Heaven's righteous laws to scan, Or trace the courses of the starry host, To these the writer's learned toil to plan, To these the battle's pride and victor's boast ; Where in the well-fought field the war-troop pour Full on the wall of shields the arrows flickering shower.
Page 221 - Thrice Holy He, The Spirit Son of Deity ! He call'd from nothing into birth Each fair production of the teeming earth ; He bids the faithful and the just aspire To join in endless bliss Heaven's angel choir. His love bestows on human kind Each varied excellence of mind. To some his Spirit-gift affords The power and mastery of words : So may the wiser sons of earth proclaim, In speech and measured song, the glories of his name.

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