Über die metrik Robert Greene's

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M. Hoffmann, 1883 - 63 pages
 

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Page 17 - Till evening comes at last, serene and mild ; When after the long vernal day of life, Enamour'd more, as more remembrance swells With many a proof of recollected love, Together down they sink in social sleep ; Together freed, their gentle spirits fly To scenes where love and bliss immortal reign.
Page 62 - I have to the utmost. Dost thou think me desperate Without just cause ? No ; when I found all lost Beyond repair, I hid me from the world, And...
Page 20 - They start away, and sweep the massy mound That runs around the hill ; the rampart once Of iron war, in ancient barbarous times, When disunited Britain ever bled...
Page 6 - Blank verse is acknowledged to be too low for a poem nay more, for a paper of verses; but if too low for an ordinary sonnet, how much more for tragedy, which is by Aristotle, in the dispute betwixt the epic poesy and the dramatic, for many reasons he there alleges, ranked above it?
Page 36 - Walk thoughtful on the silent solemn shore Of that vast ocean it must sail so soon, And put good works on board, and wait the wind That shortly blows us into worlds unknown : If unconsider'd, too, a dreadful scene!
Page 6 - ... tis nature wrought up to an higher pitch. The plot, the characters, the wit, the passions, the descriptions are all exalted above the level of common converse, as high as the imagination of the poet can carry them, with proportion to verisimility. Tragedy, we know, is wont to image to us the minds and fortunes of noble persons, and to portray these exactly. Heroic rhyme is nearest nature, as being the noblest kind of modern verse.
Page 7 - ... in speache, when it shall be read long in verse, seemeth like a lame gosling, that draweth one legge after hir: and heaven, beeing used shorte as one sillable, when it is in verse, stretched out with a diastole, is like a lame dogge that holdes up one legge.
Page 67 - At no hand ; pardon me : You shall not do yourself that wrong, sir. I Will so advise you, you shall have it all.
Page 29 - Bacon. My glass is free for every honest man. Sit down, and you shall see ere long, How or in what state your friendly fathers live.
Page 31 - I LOVE it, I love it ; and who shall dare To chide me for loving that old Arm-chair? I've treasured it long as a sainted prize ; I've bedewed it with tears, and embalmed it with sighs 'Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart ; Not a tie will break, not a link will start. Would ye learn the spell ? a mother sat there ; And a sacred thing is that old Arm-chair.

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