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appeared believe called character Charles Coleridge common confess death died dreams edition Elia essay expressed face fancy father feel give grace half hand head heart hour imagination John keep kind King lady Lamb Lamb's late leave less letter light lived London Magazine look Lord lost manner master mean mind Miss moral nature never night occasion once Page passage passed perhaps person picture play pleasure poor present probably Quaker question reason reference remember Scene seemed seen sense sort speak spirit stand story Street tell Temple thing Thomas thou thought told took true turn walk whole wish writing written wrote young
Страница 391 - For whilst, to the shame of slow-endeavouring art, Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart Hath, from the leaves of thy unvalued book, Those Delphic lines with deep impression took ; Then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving, Dost make us marble, with too much conceiving ; And, so sepulchred, in such pomp dost lie, That kings, for such a tomb, would wish to die.
Страница 363 - God ! methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run: How many make the hour full complete; How many hours bring about the day ; How many days will finish up the year; How many years a mortal man may live.
Страница 349 - The raven himself is hoarse That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my battlements. Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full Of direst cruelty ! make thick my blood ; Stop up...
Страница 457 - A name to all succeeding ages curst: For close designs and crooked counsels fit, Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit; Restless, unfixed in principles and place; In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace ; A fiery soul, which, working out its way, Fretted the pigmy body to decay, And o'er-informed the tenement of clay...
Страница 21 - Samuel Taylor Coleridge — logician, metaphysician, bard ! How have I seen the casual passer through the cloisters stand still, entranced with admiration (while he weighed the disproportion between the speech and the garb of the young Mirandula), to hear thee unfold, in thy deep and sweet intonations, the mysteries of Jamblichus or Plotinus (for even in those years thou waxedst not pale at such philosophic draughts), or reciting Homer in his Greek, or Pindar — while the walls of the old Grey Friars...
Страница 84 - twas beyond a mortal's share To wander solitary there : Two paradises 'twere in one, To live in paradise alone. How well the skilful gardener drew Of flowers and herbs this dial new; Where, from above, the milder sun Does through a fragrant zodiac run, And, as it works, the industrious bee Computes its time as well as we ! How could such sweet and wholesome hours Be reckoned but with herbs and flowers...
Страница 21 - I behold like a Spanish great galleon, and an English man-of-war ; Master Jonson (like the former) was built far higher in learning ; solid, but slow in his performances. Shakespeare with the English man-ofwar, lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack about and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his wit and invention.
Страница 388 - PITY the sorrows of a poor old man, Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door. Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span, Oh ! give relief and heaven will bless your store.
Страница 229 - In the same hour came forth fingers of a man's hand, and wrote over against the candlestick upon the plaster of the wall of the king's palace: and the king saw the part of the hand that wrote.
Страница 103 - ... and how when he died, though he had not been dead an hour, it seemed as if he had died a great while ago, such a distance there is betwixt life and death; and how I bore his death as I thought pretty well at first, but afterwards it haunted and haunted me; and though I did not cry or take it to heart as some do, and as I think he would have done if I had died, yet I missed him all day long, and knew not till then how much I had loved him.