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English Rambles: And Other Fugitive Pieces, in Prose and Verse
Uten tilgangsbegrensning - 1883
actors Anne Bracegirdle Barton Booth beauty Ben Jonson beneath bless breathes buried Cathedral church churchyard Coleridge commemorative dark dead death dream dust Edmund Kean Edmund Spenser Edwin Booth England eyes face feel Fleet Street flowers forever friends Garrick gentle gleam Globe Theatre golden grave gray grief hallowed haunt hear heard heart heavenly Henry honour human immortal John Skelton LAWRENCE BARRETT light lived London lone Longfellow look memory mind monument morning mournful never night noble o'er once organ music passion peace perfect poems poet poetry relics renown rest roses sacred shadow Shakespeare shining Shottery sigh sleep smile solemn sorrow soul spirit stars stone storied strange sunshine sweet temple tender Theatre Thomas thought to-night tomb touch Tower Tower of London voice walk walls wandering waves wild WILLIAM WINTER wind window words wrecker's bell youth
Side 46 - No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode (There they alike in trembling hope repose), The bosom of his Father and his God.
Side 21 - Even such is time, that takes in trust Our youth, our joys, our all we have, And pays us but with earth and dust ; Who, in the dark and silent grave, When we have wandered all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days ; But from this earth, this grave, this dust, My God shall raise me up, I trust ! ELIZABETHAN MISCELLANIES.
Side 21 - THE New World's sons, from England's breasts we drew Such milk as bids remember whence we came ; Proud of her Past wherefrom our Present grew, This window we inscribe with Raleigh's name.
Side 27 - That the Irish having robbed Spenser's goods, and burnt his house and a little child, new-born, he and his wife escaped, and after he died for lack of bread in King Street; and refused 20 pieces sent to him by my Lord of Essex, and said he was sorry he had no time to spend them.
Side 42 - There scattered oft, the earliest of the year, By hands unseen, are showers of violets found ; The redbreast loves to build and warble there, And little footsteps lightly print the ground.
Side 112 - And she sits and gazes at me With those deep and tender eyes, Like the stars, so still and saint-like, Looking downward from the skies. Uttered not, yet comprehended, Is the spirit's voiceless prayer, Soft rebukes, in blessings ended, Breathing from her lips of air. O, though oft depressed and lonely, All my fears are laid aside, If I but remember only Such as these have lived and died!
Side 100 - His dignity and grace, and tlie beautiful refinement of his countenance, together with his perfect taste in dress and the exquisite simplicity of his manners, made him the absolute ideal of what a poet should be. His voice, too, was soft, sweet, and musical, and, like his face, it had the innate charm of tranquillity. His eyes were...
Side 110 - There were long lapses of time during which I never saw him, being held fast by incessant duties, and driven far away by the gales of life from the old moorings of my youth. But as often as I came back to his door his love met me on the threshold and his noble serenity gave me comfort and peace. It is but a little while ago since, in quick and delicate remembrance of the old days, he led me to his hearthstone, saying, " Come and sit in the Children's Chair.
Side 112 - They have gone before us, and are like the angels in heaven. They stand upon the borders of the grave to welcome us, with the countenance of affection which they wore on earth ; yet more lovely, more radiant, more spiritual...
Side 103 - He then took up the volume of Poe, and, turning the leaves, particularly commended the stanzas entitled ' For Annie ' and ' The Haunted Palace.' Then, still speaking of criticism, he mentioned the great number of newspaper and magazine articles, about his own writings, that were received by him, — sent, apparently, by their writers. " I look at the first few lines...