The Works of Virgil, Translated Into English Verse, by John Dryden ... An Improved Ed., Containing Many New and Important Corrections of the Errors of Former Editions--the Various Readings from Dryden's Revisal and Ammendments--with Occasional Remarks and Conjectural Emendations by John Carey, Volume 1

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J. Cuthell, 1819

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Page 311 - I have endeavoured to make Virgil speak such English as he would himself have spoken, if he had been born in England, and in this present age.
Page 157 - When southern blasts should cease, and when the swain Should near their folds his feeding flocks restrain. For, ere the rising winds begin to roar, The working seas advance to wash the shore : Soft whispers run along the leafy woods ; And mountains whistle to the murm'ring floods.
Page 301 - I am sure there are few who make verses, have observed the sweetness of these two lines in Cooper's Hill — 30 Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull; Strong without rage ; without o'erflowing, full. And there are yet fewer who can find the reason of that sweetness.
Page 142 - After this particular account of the beauties in the Georgics, I should, in the next place, endeavour to point out its imperfections, if it has any. But, though I think there are some few parts in it that are not so beautiful as the rest, I shall not presume to name them, as rather suspecting my own judgement, than I can believe a fault to be in that poem, which lay so long under Virgil's correction, and had his last hand put to it.
Page 113 - Smear'd with these powerful juices, on the plain, He howls a wolf among the hungry train ; And oft the mighty necromancer boasts, With these, to call from tombs the stalking ghosts...
Page 360 - Because these fatal wars he would prevent : Whose death the wretched Greeks too late lament. Me, then a boy, my father, poor and bare Of other means, committed to his care, His kinsman and companion in the war.
Page 85 - What nonsense would the fool thy master prate, When thou, his knave, canst talk at such a rate \ Did I not see you, rascal, did I not, When you lay snug to snap young Damon's goat ? His mongrel bark'd : I ran to his relief, And cry'd, " There, there he goes ! stop, stop the thief!
Page 372 - The' unequal combat in the public square : Night was our friend; our leader was Despair. What tongue can tell the slaughter of that night? What eyes can weep the sorrows and affright? An ancient and imperial city falls...
Page 325 - O Muse ! the causes and the crimes relate ; What goddess was provok'd, and whence her hate ; For what offence the queen of henv'n began To persecute so brave, so just a man ; Involv'd his anxious life in endless cares, Expos'd to wants, and hurry'd into wars. Can heav'nly minds such high resentment show, Or exercise their spite in human woe...
Page 134 - But this kind of poetry I am now speaking of, addresses itself wholly to the imagination : it is altogether conversant among the fields and woods, and has the most delightful part of nature for its province. It raises in our minds a pleasing variety of scenes and landscapes, whilst it teaches us ; and makes the dryest of its precepts look like a description. A Georgic, therefore, is some part of the science of husbandry put into a pleasing dress, and set off with all the beauties and embellishments...

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