Memorials of Coleorton: Being Letters from Coleridge, Wordsworth and His Sister, Southey, and Sir Walter Scott to Sir George and Lady Beaumont of Coleorton, Leicestershire, 1803-1834, Том 1D. Douglas, 1887 - 294 страница |
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affection affectionate afraid Applethwaite beautiful believe brother chiefly Cole Coleorton COLERIDGE to SIR Coleridge's colour comfort cottage dear Lady Beaumont dear Sir George dear Sir George,-I delightful DOROTHY WORDSWORTH Dunmow evergreens eyes feel flowers Francis Beaumont George and Lady give glade Grasmere grounds happy Haydon heart holly honoured friends hope Keswick kind Leicestershire letter lived look Lord Lord Nelson Loughrigg Tarn Lowther Malta mean mind months morning nature never night object painting Patterdale Peele Castle picture plants pleased pleasure poem poet present received respect S. T. COLERIDGE seems sent shrubs SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT Sir George's Sir Joshua sister Skiddaw Southey speak spirit summer sure thanks things thou thought to-morrow trees verses walk wall weeks whole Wilkie WILLIAM WORDSWORTH winter garden wish WORDSWORTH to LADY WORDSWORTH to SIR write written wrote wych elm
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Страница 26 - Hast thou a charm to stay the morning-star In his steep course? So long he seems to pause On thy bald awful head, O sovran BLANC, The Arve and Arveiron at thy base Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful Form! Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently! Around thee and above Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge! But when...
Страница 208 - Keen pangs of Love, awakening as a babe Turbulent, with an outcry in the heart; And fears self-willed, that shunned the eye of Hope; And Hope that scarce would know itself from Fear; Sense of past Youth, and Manhood come in vain. And Genius given, and Knowledge won in vain...
Страница 28 - Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge! Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? GOD! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, GOD!
Страница 62 - In his loneliness and fixedness he yearneth towards the journeying Moon, and the stars that still sojourn, yet still move onward; and every where the blue sky belongs to them, and is their appointed rest, and their native country and their own natural homes, which they enter unannounced, as lords that are certainly expected and yet there is a silent joy at their arrival.
Страница 27 - Thou first and chief, sole sovran of the vale ! O struggling with the darkness all the night, And visited all night by troops of stars, Or when they climb the sky, or when they sink ; Companion of the morning star at dawn, Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn Co-herald ! wake, O wake, and utter praise ! Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth ? Who filled thy countenance with rosy light ? Who made thee parent of perpetual streams...
Страница 26 - Arve and Arveiron at thy base Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful Form, Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines How silently! Around thee and above, Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black — An ebon mass. Methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge!
Страница 28 - Who gave you your invulnerable life, Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy, Unceasing thunder and eternal foam? And who commanded (and the silence came), Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest?
Страница 29 - Rise, O ever rise, Rise like a cloud of Incense, from the Earth ! Thou kingly Spirit throned among the hills, Thou dread Ambassador from Earth to Heaven, Great Hierarch ! tell thou the silent Sky, And tell the Stars, and tell yon rising Sun, Earth, with her thousand voices, praises GOD.
Страница 206 - Of tides obedient to external force, And currents self-determined, as might seem, Or by some inner Power; of moments awful, Now in thy inner life, and now abroad, When power streamed from thee, and thy soul received The light reflected, as a light bestowed...
Страница 65 - Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much; Who, born for the universe, narrowed his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind.