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William Julius Mickle Quotes (1734-1788)
Poet
About William Julius Mickle
William Julius Mickle (29 September 1734 – 28 October 1788) was a Scottish poet.
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“Dull as a twice-told tale.”
“None but a poet can translate a poet.”
“When nature's happiest touch could add no more,
Heaven lent an angel's beauty to her face.”
Heaven lent an angel's beauty to her face.”
“The best of parents blest my younger days;
What others teach with frowns, they taught with praise.”
What others teach with frowns, they taught with praise.”
“But are ye sure the news is true—
And are ye sure he's weel?
Is this a time to think o' wark?—
Ye jades, fling by your wheel!”
And are ye sure he's weel?
Is this a time to think o' wark?—
Ye jades, fling by your wheel!”
“And ere the dawn of day appear'd,
In Cumnor Hall, so lone and drear,
Full many a piercing scream was heard,
And many a cry of mortal fear.”
In Cumnor Hall, so lone and drear,
Full many a piercing scream was heard,
And many a cry of mortal fear.”
“The death-bell thrice was heard to ring,
An aerial voice was heard to call,
And thrice the raven flapp'd its wing
Around the towers of Cumnor Hall.”
An aerial voice was heard to call,
And thrice the raven flapp'd its wing
Around the towers of Cumnor Hall.”
“The dews of summer night did fall;
The moon, sweet regent of the sky,
Silvered the walls of Cumnor Hall
And many an oak that grew thereby.”
The moon, sweet regent of the sky,
Silvered the walls of Cumnor Hall
And many an oak that grew thereby.”
“Sae true's his words, sae smooth's his speech,
His breath like caller air,
His very foot has music in't
As he comes up the stairs:
And will I see his face again!
And will I hear him speak!”
His breath like caller air,
His very foot has music in't
As he comes up the stairs:
And will I see his face again!
And will I hear him speak!”
“Thousands of angels at thy gate,
And great archangels stand,
And twenty thousand chariots wait,
Great Lord, thy dread command!
Through all thy great, thy vast domains,
With godlike honours clad,
Captivity in captive chains
Triumphing thou hast led.”
And great archangels stand,
And twenty thousand chariots wait,
Great Lord, thy dread command!
Through all thy great, thy vast domains,
With godlike honours clad,
Captivity in captive chains
Triumphing thou hast led.”
“My father joy'd to show the pleasant road,
That leads thro' nature, up to nature's God.
While others teach their sons the love of gold,
He to my opening judgment would unfold
The classic page.—My mother would inspire
And fan the sallies of the muse's fire:
She taught me to be great, was to be good;
That goodness far excell'd the noblest blood.”
That leads thro' nature, up to nature's God.
While others teach their sons the love of gold,
He to my opening judgment would unfold
The classic page.—My mother would inspire
And fan the sallies of the muse's fire:
She taught me to be great, was to be good;
That goodness far excell'd the noblest blood.”
“There, where the cross in hoary ruin nods,
And weeping yews o'ershade the lettered stones,
While midnight silence wraps these dark abodes,
And soothes me wand'ring o'er my kindred bones,
Let kindled fancy view the glorious morn,
When from the bursting graves the dust shall rise,
All nature smiling, and, by angels borne,
Messiah's cross, far blazing o'er the skies.”
And weeping yews o'ershade the lettered stones,
While midnight silence wraps these dark abodes,
And soothes me wand'ring o'er my kindred bones,
Let kindled fancy view the glorious morn,
When from the bursting graves the dust shall rise,
All nature smiling, and, by angels borne,
Messiah's cross, far blazing o'er the skies.”
“Nor let the critic, if he find the meaning of Camoens in some instances altered, imagine that he has found a blunder in the Translator. ... It was not to gratify the dull few, whose greatest pleasure in reading a translation is to see what the author exactly says; it was to give a poem that might live in the English language which was the ambition of the Translator. ... And the original is in the hands of the world.”
“Awake, ye West Winds, through the lonely dale,
And Fancy, to thy fairy bower betake;
Even now, with balmy freshness breathes the gale,
Dimpling with downy wing the stilly lake;
Through the pale willows faltering whispers wake,
And Evening comes with locks bodropp'd with dew;
On Desmond's mouldering turrets slowly shake
The trembling rye-grass and the harehell blue,
And ever and anon fair Mulla's plaints renew.”
And Fancy, to thy fairy bower betake;
Even now, with balmy freshness breathes the gale,
Dimpling with downy wing the stilly lake;
Through the pale willows faltering whispers wake,
And Evening comes with locks bodropp'd with dew;
On Desmond's mouldering turrets slowly shake
The trembling rye-grass and the harehell blue,
And ever and anon fair Mulla's plaints renew.”
“The moon, full-orbed, forsakes her watery cave,
And lifts her lovely head above the wave;
The snowy splendours of her modest ray
Stream o'er the glistening waves, and quivering play;
Around her, glittering on the heaven's arched brow,
Unnumbered stars, enclosed in azure, glow,
Thick as the dew-drops of the April dawn,
Or May-flowers crowding o'er the daisy lawn;
The canvas whitens in the silvery beam,
And with a mild pale-red the pendants gleam;
The masts' tall shadows tremble o'er the deep;
The peaceful winds a holy silence keep;
The watchman's carol, echoed from the prows,
Alone, at times, awakes the still repose.”
And lifts her lovely head above the wave;
The snowy splendours of her modest ray
Stream o'er the glistening waves, and quivering play;
Around her, glittering on the heaven's arched brow,
Unnumbered stars, enclosed in azure, glow,
Thick as the dew-drops of the April dawn,
Or May-flowers crowding o'er the daisy lawn;
The canvas whitens in the silvery beam,
And with a mild pale-red the pendants gleam;
The masts' tall shadows tremble o'er the deep;
The peaceful winds a holy silence keep;
The watchman's carol, echoed from the prows,
Alone, at times, awakes the still repose.”
“
"Leicester," she cried, "is this thy love
That thou so oft hast sworn to me,
To leave me in this lonely grove,
Immured in shameful privity?
"No more thou com'st with lover's speed,
Thy once beloved bride to see;
But be she alive, or be she dead,
I fear, stern Earl, 's the same to thee.
"Not so the usage I received
When happy in my father's hall;
No faithless husband then me grieved,
No chilling fears did me appall.
"I rose up with the cheerful morn,
No lark more blithe, no flower more gay;
And like the bird that haunts the thorn,
So merrily sung the livelong day.
"If that my beauty is but small,
Among court ladies all despised,
Why didst thou rend it from that hall,
Where, scornful Earl, it well was prized?"
William Julius Mickle Quotes by Topic
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William Julius Mickle on Translation 2 quotes
“It was not to gratify the dull few, whose greatest pleasure in reading a translation is to see what the author exactly says; it was to give a poem that might live in the English language which was the ambition of the Translator. ... And the original is in the hands of the world.”
William Julius Mickle on Aurora (mythology)
“With gentle hand, as seeming oft to pause, The purple curtains of the morn she draws.”
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William Julius Mickle on Character
William Julius Mickle on Os Lusíadas
“Dr. Johnson told me in 1772, that, about twenty years before that time, he himself had a design to translate the Lusiad, of the merit of which he spoke highly, but had been prevented by a number of other engagements.”
William Julius Mickle on Moon
“The moon, full-orbed, forsakes her watery cave, And lifts her lovely head above the wave; The snowy splendours of her modest ray Stream o'er the glistening waves, and quivering play; Around her, glittering on the heaven's arched brow, Unnumbered stars, enclosed in azure, glow, Thick as the dew-drops of the April dawn, Or May-flowers crowding o'er the daisy lawn; The canvas whitens in the silvery beam, And with a mild pale-red the pendants gleam; The masts' tall shadows tremble o'er the deep; The peaceful winds a holy silence keep.”
What William Julius Mickle Said About Others
Discover personal opinions William Julius Mickle shared regarding contemporaries.
William Julius Mickle on Luís de Camões 3 quotes
“The fiction of the apparition of the Cape of Tempests, in sublimity and awful grandeur of imagination, stands unsurpassed in human composition.”
William Julius Mickle on David Garrick
“So Shakespeare's page, the flower of poesy, Ere Garrick rose had charms for every eye; 'Twas Nature's genuine image wild and grand, The strong-marked picture of a master's hand. But when his Garrick, Nature's Pallas, came, The bard's bold painting burst into a flame: Each part new force and vital warmth received, As touched by Heaven—and all the picture lived.”
Quotes About William Julius Mickle
Gain deeper perspective through quotes about William Julius Mickle from others.
John Adams on William Julius Mickle
“If any author has recovered the freedom of Dryden, without losing the harmony or the force of Pope, it is Mickle, in some parts of his excellent translation of the Lusiad.”
James Boswell on William Julius Mickle
“A very worthy man, and I really think a true poetical genius.”
Robert Burns on William Julius Mickle
Henry Hallam on William Julius Mickle
“The Lusiad is best known in England by the translation of Mickle, who has been thought to have done something more than justice to his author, both by the unmeasured eulogies he bestows upon him, and by the more substantial service of excelling the original in his unfaithful delineation. The style of Mickle is certainly more poetical, according to our standard, than that of Camoens, that is, more figurative and emphatic; but it seems to me replenished with commonplace phrases, and wanting in the facility and sweetness of the original; in which it is well known that he has interpolated a great deal without a pretence.”
William Hayley on William Julius Mickle
“The Epic powers of Camoens have received their due honour in our language, by the elegant and spirited translation of Mr. Mickle.”
About William Julius Mickle
William Julius Mickle (29 September 1734 – 28 October 1788) was a Scottish poet.