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affection appears asked beauty become believe better body called CHAPTER comes common death delight earth eyes face fancy father fear feel follow give green half hand happy head hear heart heaven horse human idea imagination Italy kind king knew lady least less light lived look Lord manner matter mean mind nature never night once pain passed perhaps person piece play pleasant pleasure poet present reader reason respect rest round seems sense shape side sight sleep sometimes sort speak spirit stick story street suffering suppose sweet tell thee thing thou thought told took true turned voice walk whole wish writing young
Сторінка 86 - Singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight 'twould win me, That with music loud and long, I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome ! those caves of ice ! And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware ! Beware ! His flashing eyes, his floating hair ! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.
Сторінка 4 - How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines...
Сторінка 64 - Alas ! (thought I, and my heart beat loud) How fast she nears and nears! Are those her sails that glance in the Sun, Like restless gossameres?
Сторінка 37 - I behold like a Spanish great galleon, and an English man-of-war; Master Coleridge, like the former, was built far higher in learning, solid, but slow in his performances. CVL, with the English man-of-war, lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack about, and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his wit and invention.
Сторінка 105 - On this afflicted prince; fall like a cloud In gentle showers; give nothing that is loud Or painful to his slumbers; — easy, sweet, And as a purling stream, thou son of Night, Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain Like hollow murmuring wind or silver rain; Into this prince gently, oh, gently slide, And kiss him into slumbers like a bride...
Сторінка 196 - I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful - a faery's child, Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild.
Сторінка 175 - That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue, Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew: Nor did...
Сторінка 175 - Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold Have from the forests shook three summers...
Сторінка 37 - Many were the wit-combats betwixt him and Ben Jonson, which two I behold like a Spanish great galleon, and an English man-of-war ; Master Jonson (like the former) was built far higher in learning ; solid, but slow in his performances. Shakespeare...