human
Mr. Wordsworth, a man may mix poetry with prose as much as he pleases, and it will only elevate and enliven; but the moment he mixes a particle of prose with his poetry, it precipitates the whole. Wordsworth, he added, never forgave him. The always hasty Dryden, as I think I have already said, was liable, like a careless apothecary's 'prentice, to make the same confusion of ingredients, especially in the more mischievous way. I cannot leave the
gpt
Annus Mirabilis
human
Some English wool, vexed in a Belgian loom, And into cloth of spongy softness made, Did into France or colder Denmark doom, To ruin with worse ware our staple trade.
gpt
Then we upon our globe's last verge shall go, And view the ocean leaning on the sky; From thence our rolling neighbors we shall know, And on the lunar world securely pry.
human
at the extreme western verge of the world. But Dryden was beforehand with us. Though he doubtless knew that the earth was a sphere (and perhaps that it was flattened at the poles), it was always a flat surface in his fancy. In his
gpt
Amphitryon,
human
No, I would fly thee to the ridge of earth, And leap the precipice to 'scape thy sight.
gpt
Spanish Friar, Lorenzo says to Elvira that they
human
It is idle for us poor Yankees to hope that we can invent anything. To say sooth, if Dryden had left nothing behind him but the
gpt
Annus Mirabilis,