 | Sandra M Gilbert, Susan Gubar, Diana Ohehir - 1995 - 386 pàgines
...smiles I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me; Voice only fails, else, how distinct they say, "Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!"...still the same. Faithful remembrancer of one so dear, Oh welcome guest, though unexpected, here! Who bidd'st me honour with an artless song, Affectionate,... | |
 | L. J. Jordanova - 2000 - 202 pàgines
...PUBLISHED IN ASSOCIATION WITH THE NATIONAL PORTRAIT GALLERY, LONDON, BY REAKTION BOOKS For A, with love Blest be the art that can immortalize, The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim To quench it ... WILLIAM COWPER, 'On the Receipt of my Mother's Picture Out of Norfolk' This book was published... | |
 | Richard M. Hogg, Norman Francis Blake, Suzanne Romaine, Roger Lass, R. W. Burchfield - 1992 - 828 pàgines
...sentence describing the contents of a picture with a parenthetical eulogy of the art of painting: (3b) The meek intelligence of those dear eyes (Blest be...claim To quench it) here shines on me still the same. (Cowper 1798) 594 It's very evident that the parenthesis in (3b) is accompanied by relatively few of... | |
 | William Cowper - 2003 - 124 pàgines
...smiles I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me; Voice only fails, else, how distinct they say, 'Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!'...claim To quench it) here shines on me still the same. 10 Faithful remembrancer of one so dear, Oh welcome guest, though unexpected, here! Who bidd'st me... | |
 | Bruce Haley - 2003 - 322 pàgines
...his own poem, "frail memorial, but sincere," the link is not merely portraiture, but art form itself: "Blest be the art that can immortalize,/ The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim/ To quench it." As James Elmes wrote of portrait figures in his Dictionary of the Fine Arts, "if the expression on... | |
 | Lene Østermark-Johansen - 2003 - 182 pàgines
...parenthetical apostrophe, addressed to the art that makes present the intelligence of the mother's eyes: The meek intelligence of those dear eyes (Blest be the Art that can immortalize, The Art that baffled Time's tyrannic claim To quench it) here shines on me still the same. This parenthesis works... | |
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With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smile I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, ' Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away! 
