Boston Prize Poems and Other Specimens of Dramatic Poetry

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Joseph T. Buckingham, 1824 - 130 strán (strany)
 

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Strana 104 - A brave man struggling in the storms of fate, And greatly falling with a falling state. While Cato gives his little senate laws, What bosom beats not in his country's cause ? Who sees him act, but envies every deed ? Who hears him groan, and does not wish to bleed?
Strana 103 - To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart, To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold...
Strana 105 - Each change of many-coloured life he drew, Exhausted worlds, and then imagined new : Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign, And panting time toiled after him in vain.
Strana 103 - Virtue confessed in human shape he draws, What Plato thought, and godlike Cato was : No common object to your sight displays, But what with pleasure heaven itself surveys, A brave man struggling in the storms of fate, And greatly falling, with a falling state.
Strana 107 - Ah ! let not censure term our fate our choice, The stage but echoes back the public voice ; The drama's laws, the drama's patrons give, For we that live to please, must please to live.
Strana 103 - To make mankind in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each scene, -and be what they behold: For this the tragic muse first trod the stage, Commanding tears to stream through every age; Tyrants no more .their savage nature kept, And foes to virtue wonder'd how they wept.
Strana 105 - Jonson came, instructed from the school, To please in method, and invent by rule; His studious patience and laborious art, By regular approach essay'd the heart; Cold approbation gave the lingering bays; For those who durst not censure, scarce could praise A mortal born, he met the general doom, But left, like Egypt's kings, a lasting tomb.
Strana 120 - Amid the hearts which seek ingenuous fame, Our toil attempts the most precarious claim To him whose mimic pencil wins the prize, Obedient Fame immortal wreaths supplies : Whate'er of wonder Reynolds now may raise. Raphael still boasts contemporary praise : Each dazzling light and gaudier bloom subdued, With...
Strana 14 - With boding tongue foul murders numbering ; Sleep's leaden portals catch the sound. In his dream of blood for mercy quaking, At his own dull scream behold him waking ! Soon that dream to fate shall turn : For him the living furies burn ; For him the vulture sits on yonder misty peak, And chides the lagging night, and whets her hungry beak. Hark ! the trumpet's warning breath Echoes round the vale of death. Unhorsed, unhelmed, disdaining shield, The panting tyrant scours the field.
Strana 104 - Our scene precariously subsists too long On French translation, and Italian song : Dare to have sense yourselves ; assert the stage, Be justly warm'd with your own native rage. Such plays alone should please a British ear, As Cato's self had not disdain'd to hear. ' Britons attend .-] Altered thus by the author, from " Britons arise," to humour, we are told, the timid delicacy of Mr.

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