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Knight's Mechanical Encyclopedia (ed. Knight) 12 0 Browse Search
James Russell Lowell, Among my books 4 0 Browse Search
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 2. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier) 4 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Atlantic Essays 2 0 Browse Search
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 5. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier) 2 0 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in James Russell Lowell, Among my books. You can also browse the collection for Cornelius Agrippa or search for Cornelius Agrippa in all documents.

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James Russell Lowell, Among my books, Dante. (search)
end to the conventional elegance which makes the charm of French, and the most virile of poets cannot be adequately rendered in the most feminine of languages. Yet in the works of Fauriel, Ozanam, Ampere, and Villemain, France has given a greater impulse to the study of Dante than any other country except Germany. Into Germany the Commedia penetrated later. How utterly Dante was unknown there in the sixteenth century is plain from a passage in the Vanity of the Arts and Sciences of Cornelius Agrippa, where he is spoken of among the authors of lascivious stories: There have been many of these historical pandars, of which some of obscure fame, as Aeneas Sylvius, Dantes, and Petrarch, Boccace, Pontanus, etc. Ed. Lond. 1684, p. 199. The first German translation was that of Kannegiesser (1809). Versions by Streckfuss, Kopisch, and Prince John (late king) of Saxony followed. Goethe seems never to have given that attention to Dante which his ever-alert intelligence might have been ex
James Russell Lowell, Among my books, Wordsworth. (search)
ved them of the contented repose of implicit faith. To the child a watch seems to be a living creature; but Wordsworth would not let his readers be children, and did injustice to himself by giving them an uneasy doubt whether creations which really throbbed with the very heart's-blood of genius, and were alive with nature's life of life, were not contrivances of wheels and springs. A naturalness which we are told to expect has lost the crowning grace of nature. The men who walked in Cornelius Agrippa's visionary gardens had probably no more pleasurable emotion than that of a shallow wonder, or an equally shallow self-satisfaction in thinking they had hit upon the secret of the thaumaturgy; but to a tree that has grown as God willed we come without a theory and with no botanical predilections, enjoying it simply and thankfully; or the Imagination recreates for us its past summers and winters, the birds that have nested and sung in it, the sheep that have clustered in its shade, the