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Updated: May 23, 2025
There was not nearly so much to do as one would have supposed, for, with all his dreaminess, he had been oddly neat and businesslike in all parish matters. But a hundred times that night he stopped, overcome by memories. Every corner, drawer, photograph, paper was a thread in the long-spun web of his life in this house.
He never compassed even a smoothness approaching this description of a nightingale's song by a third-rate poet of the earlier school, "Trails her plain ditty in one long-spun note Through the sleek passage of her open throat, A clear, unwrinkled song," one of whose beauties is its running over into the third verse. Those poets indeed "Felt music's pulse in all her arteries ";
Do you not think so, Admiral?” The admiral, who appeared more inclined for a nap than to listen to a long-spun yarn, I verily believe, wished the narrator and the subject of his narration at the masthead together. However, he nodded assent, and the story went on. “‘On speaking to the admiral, Billy was again under my command,’ resumed his lordship, ‘and was appointed mate of the hold.
The romances of Mademoiselle de Scudery were long-spun disquisitions on love; her characters were drawn from the individuals around her, who in turn attempted to sustain the characters and adopt the language suggested in her books. One folly led on another, till at last the vocabulary of the salon became so artificial, that none but the initiated could understand it.
Bacon's style is stiff and rigid: his wit, though often brilliant, is also often unnatural and far-fetched; and he seems to be the original of those pointed similes and long-spun allegories which so much distinguish the English authors: Galilaeo is a lively and agreeable, though somewhat a prolix writer.
In his rugged untenable numbers are conveyed sentiments the most strained and distorted; long-spun allegories, distant allusions, and forced conceits.
The dances in certain houses, the faces of some conceited club, long-spun names, business or gossip, or to drive a double carriage, are the gaslight boundaries of existence! Pah! it is a courtyard, bounded by four square walls, a path or two to walk in, and the eyes of busybodies to order our doings and sneer us out of our souls.
His wit is displayed in far-fetched sophistries; his imagination in long-spun similies, awkwardly introduced. All these faults have been ridiculed by the Duke of Buckingham in his comedy of The Rehearsal. Dryden was meant under the name of Bayes, though some features are taken from Davenant and other contemporary writers.
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