Shelburne Essays, Volume 4 |
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beauty Blake Blake's Burney called century character Charles Lamb Church Crisp criticism death Diary divine Donne dread E. V. LUCAS Elizabethan English essays eyes Fall of Hyperion fancy Fanny FANNY BURNEY fear feel Franklin G. P. Putnam's Sons genius George hand Hawker heart heaven Herbert Horace Horace Walpole human imagination Keats Keats's kind King Lamb Lamb's later letters literary literature London look Lord memory Milton mind Morwenstow nature never Nicholas Ferrar night once Paradise Paradise Lost passed passion Paul Elmer philosophy poems poet poet's poetic poetry reader religion scene seems sense solemn song sonnet soul Specimen Days spirit stanzas story sweet Tennyson thee theme things thou thought tion to-day turned verse VICAR OF MORWENSTOW vision volumes Walpole Walpole's Walt Whitman Whitman WILLIAM BLAKE wind wonder words Wordsworth writing written wrote
Popular passages
Page 227 - Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds ; pleasant the sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistening with dew ; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers ; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening mild...
Page 98 - Melancholy has her sovran shrine, Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine; His soul shall taste the sadness of her might, And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
Page 180 - Fear death? — to feel the fog in my throat, The mist in my face, When the snows begin, and the blasts denote I am nearing the place, The power of the night, the press of the storm, The post of the foe; Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form, Yet the strong man must go...
Page 180 - And bade me creep past. No ! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers The heroes of old, Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears Of pain, darkness and cold. 242 For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, The black minute's at end, And the elements...
Page 97 - Darkling I listen ; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain...
Page 193 - In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? and what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
Page 207 - To Contemplation's sober eye Such is the race of Man: And they that creep, and they that fly Shall end where they began. Alike the busy and the gay But flutter thro...
Page 191 - Come lovely and soothing death, Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving, In the day, in the night, to all, to each, Sooner or later delicate death.
Page 100 - Bright Star! would I were steadfast as thou art — Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night, And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like Nature's patient, sleepless Eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task Of pure ablution round earth's human shores...