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Tennyson: Poet, Philosopher, Idealist: Studies of the Life, Work, and ...
John Cuming Walters
No preview available - 1971
admiration Alfred Tennyson Arthur artist beautiful Becket called Cambridge Cameron century certainly character charm criticism death delight drama England English Enoch Arden expression fancy Farringford feeling friends G. F. Watts garden genius Guinevere Hallam hand Harold heart Henry honour human humour idea Idylls imagination interesting James Spedding King King Arthur Lady Lady of Shalott Lancelot Laureate Leodegrance letter light Lincolnshire lines literary living Locksley Hall look Lord Tennyson Maud Memoir Memoriam Milnes mind nature never noble nyson's passage passion perhaps play poem poet poet's poetic poetry Princess qualities Queen Mary Review Rossetti says seems sense sentiment Shakespeare Sir Henry Taylor Somersby son's soul spirit stanza Stopford Brooke story style sweet Swinburne sympathy taste Tenny thee things thou thought tion true truth verse volume words Wordsworth writes wrote young youth
Page 31 - IN THE greenest of our valleys, By good angels tenanted, Once a fair and stately palace — Radiant palace — reared its head. In the monarch Thought's dominion — It stood there! Never seraph spread a pinion Over fabric half so fair.
Page 43 - The time draws near the birth of Christ: The moon is hid; the night is still; The Christmas bells from hill to hill Answer each other in the mist. Four voices of four hamlets round, From far and near, on mead and moor, Swell out and fail, as if a door Were shut between me and the sound...
Page 247 - AT FLORES in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay, And a pinnace, like a flutter'd bird, came flying from far away : ' Spanish ships of war at sea ! we have sighted fifty-three ! ' Then sware Lord Thomas Howard : ' "Fore God I am no coward ; But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear, And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick. We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty-three?
Page 251 - Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt. Dispraise or blame, nothing but well and fair. And what may quiet us in a death so noble.
Page 103 - He that walks it, only thirsting For the right, and learns to deaden Love of self, before his journey closes — He shall find the stubborn thistle bursting Into glossy purples, which outredden All voluptuous garden-roses.
Page 126 - He is gone who seem'd so great.— Gone; but nothing can bereave him Of the force he made his own Being here, and we believe him Something far advanced in State, And that he wears a truer crown Than any wreath that man can weave him.
Page 141 - Anathema,' friend, at you; Should all our churchmen foam in spite At you, so careful of the right, Yet one lay-hearth would give you welcome (Take it and come) to the Isle of Wight...
Page 260 - Though with some short parenthesis between, High on the throne of wit, and, seated there, Not mine — that's little — but thy laurel wear. Thy first attempt an early promise made ; That early promise this has more than paid. So bold, yet so judiciously you dare, That your least praise is to be regular.
Page 11 - It shall never be inhabited, neither shall it be dwelt in from generation to generation: neither shall the Arabian pitch tent there; neither shall the shepherds make their fold there. But wild beasts of the desert shall lie there; and their houses shall be full of doleful creatures; and owls shall dwell there, and satyrs shall dance there.