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accent agreeable arguments arise Aristotle Asyndeton atheism attention beauty beginning blank verse called Catachresis character Cicero circumflex Clodius comma common composition considered couplet Demosthenes depends discourse distinct distinguished Elements of Elocution emphasis emphatic words endeavour example express falling inflexion figure flexion following sentence force former give higher tone honour Ibid idea inflexion of voice instance interrogative interrogative words kind language latter likewise long pause lower tone manner mark Mark Antony meaning Milo mind monotone nature necessary neral nounced nunciation object observed orator ornament Orthoepial particular passage passion perly person phatic Polysyndeton Pompey principal pronounced pronunciation proper propriety prose punctuation question Quintilian quires reader reading reason Rhetoric rhyme rising inflexion Roman rule says slide sound speaker speaking Spectator style syllable tence thing thou thought tion tone of voice variety verb verse virtue vowels whole writer
Страница 217 - And, when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude axe with heaved stroke Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallowed haunt.
Страница 31 - O thou that, with surpassing glory crowned, Look'st from thy sole dominion like the god Of this new World — at whose sight all the stars Hide their diminished heads — to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name, 0 Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams...
Страница 135 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his fav'rite 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 church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn:' THE EPITAPH Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Страница 154 - Of all the causes which conspire to blind Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind, What the weak head with strongest bias rules, Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools.
Страница 168 - When the proud steed shall know why man restrains His fiery course, or drives him o'er the plains ; When the dull ox, why now he breaks the clod, Is now a victim, and now Egypt's god : Then shall man's pride and dulness comprehend His actions', passions', being's use and end ; Why doing, suffering, check'd, impell'd; and why This hour a slave, the next a deity.
Страница 168 - Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, As, to be hated, needs but to be seen; Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
Страница 236 - Annual for me, the grape, the rose renew The juice nectareous, and the balmy dew; For me, the mine a thousand treasures brings; For me, health gushes from a thousand springs; Seas roll to waft me, suns to light me rise; My foot-stool earth, my canopy the skies.
Страница 133 - Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill Appear in writing or in judging ill ; But, of the two, less dangerous is the offence To tire our patience, than mislead our sense. Some few in that, but numbers err in this ; Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss : A fool might once himself alone expose : Now one in verse makes many more in prose.
Страница 166 - Were we to press, inferior might on ours: Or in the full creation leave a void, Where, one step broken, the great scale's destroy'd: From Nature's chain whatever link you strike, Tenth or ten thousandth, breaks the chain alike. And, if each system in gradation roll Alike essential to th' amazing Whole, The least confusion but in one, not all That system only, but the Whole must fall.
Страница 170 - Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear : Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village- Hampden, that, with dauntless breast, The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. Th...