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A Criticism on the Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard
John] 1750?-1820 [Young
No preview available - 2016
admiration already appear author of Marmion author of Waverley beautiful become Canto Canto VI character circumstances close criticism dark death distinguished doubt effect Elegy English examples expression fair fancy feeling fire frequent give Gray ground Guy Mannering hand heart hope idea images imagination instances interest Introduction Italy Ivanhoe kind Lady Lake Letters light lines live look Lord Mannering Marmion means mentioned mind Minstrel natural never night novelist novels object observation occasion once passage perhaps person poems poet poetical poetry present remarkable resemblance Rokeby says scene seems seen sense Series similar sometimes sound speak spirit stanza story strong style supposed thing thou thought tion true turn Waverley whole wild writers
Page 54 - Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault, The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Page 9 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his favorite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; "The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Page 4 - Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death?
Page 8 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Page 1 - ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD / THE CURFEW tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Page 104 - Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace. With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost.
Page 2 - The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed...
Page 7 - E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance, by lonely Contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, — Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn...