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A History of English Literature in a Series of Biographical Sketches
William Francis Collier
No preview available - 2015
acted already appeared beauty became began born brilliant called Cambridge century CHAPTER character Charles chief Church close College Court death deep died early Edinburgh England English eyes fame father four gave genius give hand head heart Henry History honour Illustrative Italy James John kind King Lady land language later Latin learned letters light lines List literary literature lived London Lord mind nature never night noble novel once Oxford passed picture play poem poet poetic poetry political poor prose published received remaining rich round royal seems song soon SPECIMEN spent spirit stand story style sweet things Thomas thought took translation turned verse volumes writer written wrote young
Page 294 - twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.
Page 330 - Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge!
Page 143 - The other Shape — If shape it might be called that shape had none Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb ; Or substance might be called that shadow seemed, For each seemed either — black it stood as Night, 670 Fierce as ten Furies, terrible as Hell, And shook a dreadful dart : what seemed his head The likeness of a kingly crown had on.
Page 145 - Almighty hath not built Here for his envy, will not drive us hence : Here we may reign secure, and, in my choice To reign is worth ambition, though in Hell : Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven...
Page 288 - I thought ten thousand swords must have leaped from their scabbards to avenge even a look that threatened her with insult. But the age of chivalry is gone. That of sophisters, economists, and calculators has succeeded ; and the glory of Europe is extinguished forever.
Page 293 - Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee — Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they? Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts: — not so thou, Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play — Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow — Such as creation's dawn beheld thou rollest now.
Page 97 - Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid : Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub, Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers...
Page 260 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs — and God has given my share — I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose...