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Page 373 - Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony : who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth: As which of you shall not? With this I depart: That, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death.
Page 393 - Mid mouldering ruins low he lies ; And death upon the braes of Yarrow, Has closed the Shepherd-poet's eyes: Nor has the rolling year twice measured, From sign to sign, its steadfast course, Since every mortal power of Coleridge Was frozen at its marvellous source ; The rapt One, of the godlike forehead, The heaven-eyed creature sleeps in earth : And Lamb, the frolic and the gentle, Has vanished from his lonely hearth.
Page 397 - SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love. A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me...
Page 394 - Poems to which any value can be attached were never produced on any variety of subjects but by a man who, being possessed of more than usual organic sensibility, had also thought long and deeply.
Page 57 - Go, stand on the hill where they lie. The earliest ray of the golden day On that hallowed spot is cast ; And the evening sun, as he leaves the world, Looks kindly on that spot last. The pilgrim spirit has not fled : It walks in noon's broad light ; And it watches the bed of the glorious dead, With the holy stars, by night. It watches the bed of the brave who have bled, And shall guard this ice-bound shore, Till the waves of the bay, where the May-Flower lay, Shall foam and freeze no more.
Page 244 - He alone, who, when the object requires it, is always keen, and worldly, and practical — and who yet, without changing his hand, or stopping his course, scatters around him, as he goes, all sounds and shapes of sweetness, — and conjures up landscapes of immortal fragrance and freshness, and peoples them with spirits of glorious aspect and attractive grace — and is a thousand times more full of...
Page 372 - How delightful in the early spring, after the dull and tedious time of winter, when the frosts disappear and the sunshine warms the earth and waters, to wander forth by some clear stream...
Page 393 - Were earlier raised, remain to hear A timid voice that asks in whispers, "Who next will drop and disappear?
Page 76 - And they made their lives bitter with hard bondage, in mortar, and in brick, and in all manner of service in the field: all their service, wherein they made them serve, was with rigour.
Page 143 - ... violet awakes ; What loved little islands, twice seen in their lakes, Can the wild water-lily restore ; What landscapes I read in the primrose's looks, And what pictures of pebbled and minnowy brooks, In the vetches that tangled their shore. Earth's cultureless buds, to my heart ye were dear, Ere the fever of passion, or ague of fear, Had scathed my existence's bloom ; Once I welcome you more, in life's passionless stage, With the visions of youth to revisit my age, And I wish you to grow on...