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admired ancient antiquity appeared ballads beauty called Castle century character Chatterton classical collection Collins critics death described early edition eighteenth century England English Essay expression feeling French garden genius German give Gothic Gray hand imagination imitations interest Italy Johnson kind language learned less letters Lewis lines literary literature manner manuscript mediŠval mention Middle Ages Milton mind movement nature never night original Ossian passage Percy perhaps pieces play poems poetic poetry poets Pope popular present printed published Queen reader reason Robin Hood romantic romanticism Rowley says Scott seems seen sentiment Shakspere song Spenser spirit stanza story style taste thing Thomas Thomson thought tion translation true turn verse volume Walpole Warton whole wild wind writes written wrote young
Page 147 - Phlegra with the heroic race were joined That fought at Thebes and Ilium, on each side Mixed with auxiliar gods ; and what resounds In fable or romance of Uther's son Begirt with British and Armoric knights ; And all who since, baptized or infidel, Jousted in Aspramont, or Montalban, Damasco, or Marocco, or Trebisond, Or whom Biserta sent from Afric shore, When Charlemain with all his peerage fell By Fontarabbia.
Page 157 - Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds ; Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Page 121 - His Gardens next your admiration call, On ev'ry side you look, behold the Wall! No pleasing Intricacies intervene, No artful wildness to perplex the scene; Grove nods at grove, each Alley has a brother, And half the platform just reflects the other.
Page 275 - In behint yon auld fail dyke, I wot there lies a new-slain Knight ; And naebody kens that he lies there, But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair. ' His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, His lady's ta'en another mate, So we may mak our dinner sweet. ' Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, And I'll pick out his bonny blue een : Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.
Page 131 - Whether to plant a walk in undulating curves, and to place a bench at every turn where there is an object to catch the view; to make water run where it will be heard, and to stagnate where it will be seen...
Page 93 - It was, I ween, a lovely spot of ground; And there a season atween June and May, Half...
Page 236 - I waked one morning in the beginning of last June from a dream, of which all I could recover was, that I had thought myself in an ancient castle (a very natural dream for a head filled like mine with Gothic story) and that on the uppermost bannister of a great staircase I saw a gigantic hand in armour. In the evening I sat down and began to write, without knowing in the least what I intended to say or relate.
Page 274 - I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas that I found not my heart moved more than with a trumpet...
Page 113 - The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed today, Had he thy reason, would he skip and play? Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.
Page 367 - My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow-tree. Hark ! the raven flaps his wing In the briar'd dell below; Hark ! the death-owl loud doth sing To the nightmares as they go. My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow- tree.