Somerset, with the Severn Sea: A Poem, with Historical and Miscellaneous Notes

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Hamilton, Adams, 1867 - Poetry of places - 387 pages
 

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Page 83 - Fountain heads, and pathless groves, Places which pale passion loves ! Moonlight walks, when all the fowls Are warmly housed, save bats and owls! A midnight bell, a parting groan...
Page 333 - Returning that same evening, I got into a metaphysical argument with Wordsworth, while Coleridge was explaining the different notes of the nightingale to his sister, in which we neither of us succeeded in making ourselves perfectly clear and intelligible.
Page 340 - That summer, under whose indulgent skies, Upon smooth Quantock's airy ridge we roved Unchecked, or loitered 'mid her sylvan combs, Thou in bewitching words, with happy heart, Didst chaunt the vision of that Ancient Man, The bright-eyed Mariner, and rueful woes Didst utter of the Lady Christabel...
Page 333 - Coleridge has told me that he himself liked to compose in walking over uneven ground, or breaking through the straggling branches of a copsewood...
Page 332 - This ad captandum merit was however by no means a recommendation of it, according to the severe principles of the new school, which reject rather than court popular effect. Wordsworth, looking out of the low, latticed window, said, " How beautifully the sun sets on that yellow bank!
Page 48 - With white-flowered jasmin, and the broad-leaved myrtle, (Meet emblems they of Innocence and Love!) And watch the clouds, that late were rich with light, Slow saddening round, and mark the star of eve Serenely brilliant (such should wisdom be) Shine opposite! How exquisite the scents Snatched from yon bean-field!
Page 222 - The LORD God of gods, the LORD God of gods, he knoweth, and Israel he shall know ; if it be in rebellion, or if in transgression against the LORD, (save us not this day...
Page 335 - Valley of Rocks, but as if in spite, the clouds only muttered a few angry sounds, and let fall a few refreshing drops. Coleridge told me that he and Wordsworth were to have made this place the scene of a prose-tale, which was to have been in the manner of, but far superior to, the Death of Abel, but they had relinquished the design.
Page 332 - Peter Bell.' There was a severe, worn pressure of thought about his temples, a fire in his eye (as if he saw something in objects more than the outward appearance...
Page 325 - Now, my friends emerge Beneath the wide wide Heaven— and view again The many-steepled tract magnificent Of hilly fields and meadows, and the sea, With some fair bark, perhaps, whose sails light up The slip of smooth clear blue betwixt two isles Of purple shadow!

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