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affectionate brother affectionate friend appears beautiful Brown Byron Charles Cowden Clarke cloth cottage dear Bailey dear Brothers dear Reynolds delight Derwent Water Devonshire Dilke Donaghadee EDWARD MOXON Elgin Marbles Endymion eyes fair fame fancy feel genius George George Keats give Hampstead happiness Haydon Hazlitt head hear heard heart Heaven honour hope human idea imagination Isle Isle of Mull John Keats Keats's King Lear lady leave Leigh Hunt letter lines literary live look Lord Lord Byron Milton mind morning nature never night pain Paradise Lost passion perhaps pleasure poem poet poetical poetry Port Patrick Price remember seems Shakespeare Shelley sister song Sonnet soon sort soul speak Spenser spirit stanza sure talk taste Teignmouth tell thee thing thou thought truth verse volume 8vo walk wish word Wordsworth write written wrote
Page 93 - Dilke on various subjects; several things dove-tailed in my mind, and at once it struck me what quality went to form a Man of Achievement, especially in Literature, and which Shakespeare possessed so enormously — I mean Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason...
Page 35 - Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up ; urchins Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, All exercise on thee ; thou shalt be pinch'd As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em.
Page 276 - Free virtue should enthral to force or chance. Their song was partial, but the harmony (What could it less when spirits immortal sing?) Suspended Hell, and took with ravishment The thronging audience.
Page 27 - tis a gentle luxury to weep, That I have not the cloudy winds to keep Fresh for the opening of the morning's eye. Such dim-conceived glories of the brain Bring round the heart an indescribable feud ; So do these wonders a most dizzy pain, That mingles Grecian grandeur with the rude Wasting of old Time — with a billowy main A sun, a shadow of a magnitude.
Page 264 - This morning I am in a sort of temper, indolent and supremely careless ; I long after a stanza or two of Thomson's " Castle of Indolence ; " my passions are all asleep, from my having slumbered till nearly eleven, and weakened the animal fibre all over me, to a delightful sensation, about three degrees on this side of faintness. If I had teeth of pearl, and the breath of lilies, I should call it languor ; but, as I am, I must call it laziness.
Page 276 - Others more mild, Retreated in a silent valley, sing With notes angelical to many a harp Their own heroic deeds and hapless fall By doom of battle ; and complain that fate ' Free virtue should enthrall to force or chance.
Page 212 - Whose prelude held all envy, hate and wrong But what was howling in one breast alone, Silent with expectation of the song, Whose master's hand is cold, whose silver lyre unstrung.
Page 101 - Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear: 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!