The life of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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1838
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Page 119 - There was a time when, though my path was rough, This joy within me dallied with distress, And all misfortunes were but as the stuff Whence Fancy made me dreams of happiness: For hope grew round me, like the twining vine, And fruits and foliage, not my own, seemed mine.
Page 303 - A little child, a limber elf, Singing, dancing to itself, A fairy thing with red round cheeks That always finds and never seeks, Makes such a vision to the sight As fills a father's eyes with light...
Page 106 - Lyrical Ballads, in which it was agreed that my endeavours should be directed to persons and characters supernatural, or at least romantic — yet so as to transfer from our inward nature a human interest and a semblance of truth sufficient to procure for these shadows of imagination that willing suspension of disbelief, for the moment, which constitutes poetic faith.
Page 74 - So I returned and considered all the oppressions that are done under the sun: and behold the tears of such as were oppressed, and they had no comforter; and on the side of their oppressors there was power; but they had no comforter.
Page 287 - On the other side it seems to be Of the huge, broad-breasted, old oak tree. The night is chill; the forest bare; Is it the wind that inoaneth bleak? There is not wind enough in the air To move away the ringlet curl From the lovely lady's cheek — There is not wind enough to twirl The one...
Page 286 - Is the night chilly and dark? The night is chilly, but not dark. The thin grey cloud is spread on high, It covers but not hides the sky. The moon is behind, and at the full; And yet she looks both small and dull. The night is chill...
Page 293 - And thus the lofty lady spake — All they who live in the upper sky, Do love you, holy Christabel! And you love them, and for their sake And for the good which me befell, Even I in my degree will try, Fair maiden, to requite you well. But now unrobe yourself; for I Must pray, ere yet in bed I lie.
Page 294 - And with low voice and doleful look These words did say : . In the touch of this bosom there worketh a spell, Which is lord of thy utterance, Christabel ! Thou knowest to-night, and wilt know to-morrow This mark of my shame, this seal of my sorrow ; But vainly thou warrest, For this is alone in Thy power to declare, That in the dim forest Thou heard'st a low moaning, And found' st a bright lady, surpassingly fair ; And didst bring her home with thee in love and in charity To shield her and shelter...
Page 286 - Tis a month before the month of May, And the Spring comes slowly up this way. The lovely lady, Christabel, Whom her father loves so well, What makes her in the wood so late, A furlong from the castle gate? She had dreams all yesternight Of her own betrothed knight; And she in the midnight wood will pray For the weal of her lover that's far away.
Page 17 - ... being kind to me in the great city, after a little forced notice, which they had the grace to take of me on my first arrival in town, soon grew tired of my holiday visits. They seemed to them to recur too often, though I thought them few enough; and, one after another, they all failed me, and I felt myself alone among six hundred playmates. O the cruelty of separating a poor lad from his early homestead!

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