Sketches and Essays: And Winterslow (essays Written There)

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George Bell and Sons, 1878 - 466 pages
 

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Page 190 - And having dropped the expected bag — pass on. He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch, Cold and yet cheerful : messenger of grief Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some, To him indifferent whether grief or joy. Houses in ashes, and the fall of stocks, Births, deaths, and marriages, epistles wet With tears that trickled down the writer's cheeks Fast as the periods from his fluent quill, Or charged with amorous sighs of absent swains, Or nymphs responsive, equally affect His horse and him,...
Page 205 - Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage ; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; Let it pry through the portage of the head, Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o'erwhelm it, As fearfully as doth a galled rock O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean. Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit To his full height.
Page 180 - My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires, and more slow; An hundred years should go to praise Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze; Two hundred to adore each breast, But thirty thousand to the rest; An age at least to every part, And the last age should show your heart.
Page 246 - Fix'd fate, free-will, foreknowledge absolute, as we passed through echoing grove, by fairy stream or waterfall, gleaming in the summer moonlight ! He lamented that Wordsworth was not prone enough to believe in the traditional superstitions of the place, and that there was a something corporeal, a matter-of-fact-ness, a. clinging to the palpable, or often to the petty, in his poetry, in consequence.
Page 235 - His mouth was gross, voluptuous, open, eloquent; his chin good-humoured and round ; but his nose, the rudder of the face, the index of the will, was small, feeble, nothing — like what he has done.
Page 234 - ... driving his team afield, or sitting under the hawthorn, piping to his flock, ' as though he should never be old...
Page 180 - Nor less I deem that there are Powers Which of themselves our minds impress; That we can feed this mind of ours In a wise passiveness.
Page 396 - How charming is divine Philosophy! Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns.
Page 180 - HAD we but world enough, and time, This coyness, lady, were no crime. We would sit down, and think which way To walk, and pass our long love's day. Thou by the Indian Ganges' side Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide Of Humber would complain. I would Love you ten years before the flood, And you should, if you please, refuse Till the conversion of the Jews; My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires and more slow; An hundred...
Page 248 - 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.

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