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All the day Had been a dreary one at best, and dim Was settling to its close, yet shot one grim Red leer to see the plain catch its estray. What made those holes and rents In the dock’s harsh swarth leaves, bruised as to baulk All hope of greenness? Giles then, the soul of honour - there he stands Frank as ten years ago when knighted first, What honest man should dare (he said) he durst. Lines such as “In the dock’s harsh swarth leaves...” wind so contortedly that they nearly confound all attempts at reading them aloud.

Tis a brute must walk Pashing their life out, with a brute’s intents. As for the grass, it grew as scant as hair In leprosy; thin dry blades pricked the mud Which underneath looked kneaded up with blood. he might be dead for aught I knew, With that red gaunt and colloped neck a-strain. Both the rhyme scheme and the poem’s vocabulary suggest a deliberate archaicness, similar to some of Tennyson’s poems. Eliot’s The Waste Land and other works of high modernism.

, easily topped the chart after trumping the competition with a far-better-than-expected .2 million from 3,015 theaters in another victory for Blumhouse Productions and Universal's partnership.

, starring James Mc Avoy as a kidnapper with 24 personalities, was fueled by younger moviegoers (52 percent of ticket buyers were under the age of 25, while 52 percent of ticket buyers were females).

The Tomatometer rating – based on the published opinions of hundreds of film and television critics – is a trusted measurement of movie and TV programming quality for millions of moviegoers.

It represents the percentage of professional critic reviews that are positive for a given film or television show.

Certified Fresh Movies and TV shows are Certified Fresh with a steady Tomatometer of 75% or higher after a set amount of reviews (80 for wide-release movies, 40 for limited-release movies, 20 for TV shows), including 5 reviews from Top Critics.

The third explosive chapter of the blockbuster franchise that redefined the spy thriller finds extreme athlete turned government operative Xander Cage (Vin Diesel) coming out of self-imposed exile and on a collision course with deadly alpha warrior Xiang and his team in a race to recover a sinister and seemingly unstoppable weapon known as Pandora's Box.

Who were the strugglers, what war did they wage, Whose savage trample thus could pad the dank soil to a plash? And yet Dauntless the slug-horn to my lips I set, And blew.One stiff blind horse, his every bone a-stare, Stood stupified, however he came there: Thrust out past service from the devil’s stud! And shut eyes underneath the rusty mane; Seldom went such grotesqueness with such woe; I never saw a brute I hated so; He must be wicked to deserve such pain. I shut my eyes and turned them on my heart, As a man calls for wine before he fights, I asked one draught of earlier, happier sights, Ere fitly I could hope to play my part. I fancied Cuthbert’s reddening face Beneath its garniture of curly gold, Dear fellow, till I almost felt him fold An arm to mine to fix me to the place, The way he used. However, unlike Tennyson’s poems, this poem recreates a medieval world that does not evoke pleasant fairy tales, but rather dark horrors. The barren plains symbolize the sterile, corrupted conditions of modern life.Think first, fight afterwards, the soldier’s art: One taste of the old time sets all to rights. Although they are depopulated and remote, they serve as a stand-in for the city.Shakespeare is, of course, the patriarch of all English literature, particularly poetry; but here Browning tries to work out his own relationship to the English literary tradition.He also tries to analyze the continued importance of canonical works in a much-changed modern world. I asked: when something on the dismal flat Came to arrest my thoughts and change their train. A sudden little river crossed my path As unexpected as a serpent comes. All along, Low scrubby alders kneeled down over it; Drenched willows flung them headlong in a fit Of mute despair, a suicidal throng: The river which had done them all the wrong, Whate’er that was, rolled by, deterred no whit. Which, while I forded - good saints, how I feared To set my foot upon a dead man’s cheek, Each step, of feel the spear I thrust to seek For hollows, tangled in his hair or beard! No footprint leading to that horrid mews, None out of it. What bad use was that engine for, that wheel, Or brake, not wheel - that harrow fit to reel Men’s bodies out like silk? Yet half I seemed to recognise some trick Of mischief happened to me, God knows when - In a bad dream perhaps. When, in the very nick Of giving up, one time more, came a click As when a trap shuts - you’re inside the den. Burningly it came on me all at once, This was the place! This particular young man is on a quest for the “Dark Tower”: what the tower’s significance is we do not know (perhaps it holds the Holy Grail). The fight must so have seemed in that fell cirque, What penned them there, with all the plain to choose? before it left The dying sunset kindled through a cleft: The hills, like giants at a hunting, lay, Chin upon hand, to see the game at bay, - ’Now stab and end the creature - to the heft! “Childe” is an archaic aristocratic title indicating a young man who has not yet been knighted. Names in my ears Of all the lost adventurers, my peers - How such a one was strong, and such was bold, And such was fortunate, yet each of old Lost, lost! In a sheet of flame I saw them and I knew them all. There they stood, ranged along the hillsides, met To view the last of me, a living frame For one more picture!The inspiration is an empty performance, just as the quest described here is an empty adventure.Much of the poem’s imagery references the storm scene in Lear from whence its inspiration comes.

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