The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe: With His Letters and Journals, and His Life, Volume 4

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J. Murray, 1836 - 336 pages

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Page 133 - To the very moment that he bade me tell it; Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, Of moving accidents by flood and field, Of hair-breadth 'scapes i...
Page 47 - That, viewing it, we seem almost to obtain Our innocent sweet simple years again. This fond attachment to the well-known place Whence first we started into life's long race, Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway, We feel it e'en in age, and at our latest day.
Page 223 - I have heard of your paintings too, well enough ; God hath given you one face and you make yourselves another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance.
Page 105 - The great cause of the present deplorable state of English poetry is to be attributed to that absurd and systematic depreciation of Pope, in which, for the last few years, there has been a kind of epidemical concurrence.
Page 245 - Brief as the lightning in the collied night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth. And ere a man hath power to say, — Behold ! The jaws of darkness do devour it up : So quick bright things come to confusion.
Page 245 - Ah me ! for aught that ever I could read, Could ever hear by tale or history, . The course of true love never did run smooth : J But, either it was different in blood ; — Lys.
Page 203 - Yes, I am proud ; I must be proud to see Men, not afraid of God, afraid of me ; Safe from the bar, the pulpit, and the throne, Yet touch'd and sham'd by ridicule alone.
Page 46 - Though mangled, hack'd, and hew'd, not yet destroy'd ; The little ones, unbutton'd, glowing hot, Playing our games, and on the very spot ; As happy as we once, to kneel and draw The chalky ring, and knuckle down at taw...
Page 6 - d lie down and trace How sidelong crabs had scrawl'd their crooked race, Or sadly listen to the tuneless cry Of fishing gull or clanging golden-eye ; What time the sea-birds to the marsh would come, And the loud bittern, from the bull-rush home, Gave from the salt ditch side the bellowing boom...
Page 193 - That, however, is only a mercantile way of looking at the matter; but did any of my sons show poetical talent, of which, to my great satisfaction, there are no appearances, the first thing I should do, would be to inculcate upon him the duty of cultivating some honourable profession, and qualifying himself to play a more respectable part in society than the mere poet. And as the best corollary of my doctrine, I would make him get your tale of "The Patron," by heart from beginning to end.

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