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Ablett admirable afterwards Aspasia Augustus Hare Bath beautiful Birlingham Boccaccio brother called Catullus character Cicero close criticism Dante death delightful Demosthenes dialogue doubt England English Epicurus expressed eyes father favourite Fiesole Florence genius give Greek happy hath Hazlitt hear heard heart honour hope Italian Italy Julius Hare Kenyon kind Lady Lady Blessington Landor language later Latin less letter living Lord Lord Byron Milton mind months mother never noble once opinion Ovid passed perhaps Pericles Phocion Plato pleasure poem poet poetry praise printed prose published received remark remember reply scene sent Shakespeare sister Sophocles Southey Southey's talk Taylor tell thee things thou thought tion told tragedy Tuscany verse villa volume Walter Landor wish words Wordsworth worth write written wrote young
Page 456 - I STROVE with none, for none was worth my strife; Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art; I warmed both hands before the fire of life; It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
Page 56 - Rather do thou walk with him, ride with him, play with him, be his faery, his page, his everything that love and poetry have invented ; but watch him well ; sport with his fancies ; turn them about like the ringlets round his cheek; and if ever he meditate on power, go toss up thy baby to his brow, and bring back his thoughts into his heart by the music of thy discourse. Teach him to live unto God and unto thee ; and he will discover that women, like the plants in woods, derive their softness and...
Page 274 - These may she never share ! Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold, Than daisies in the mould, Where children spell, athwart the churchyard gate, His name and life's brief date.
Page 274 - I loved him not ; and yet, now he is gone, I feel I am alone. I check'd him while he spoke ; yet, could he speak, Alas ! I would not check. For reasons not to love him once I sought, And wearied all my thought To vex myself and him : I now would give My love could he but live Who lately lived for me, and when he found 'T was vain, in holy ground He hid his face amid the shades of death...
Page 491 - Rears many a weed : If parties bring you there, will you Drop slily in a grain or two Of wall-flower seed ? I shall not see it, and (too sure ! ) I shall not ever hear that your Light step was there; But the rich odour some fine day Will, what I cannot do, repay That little care.
Page 26 - Even in poetry it is the imaginative only, viz., that which is conversant with, or turns upon infinity, that powerfully affects me. Perhaps I ought to explain : I mean to say that, unless in those passages where things are lost in each other, and limits vanish, and aspirations are raised, I read with something too much like indifference.
Page 56 - Read them on thy marriage-bed, on thy childbed, on thy. death-bed. Thou spotless undrooping lily, they have fenced thee right well. These are the men for men : these are to fashion the bright and blessed creatures whom God one day shall smile upon in thy chaste bosom. Mind thou thy husband.
Page 256 - For these dost thou repine ? He may have left the lowly walks of men ; Left them he has ; what then? Are not his footsteps followed by the eyes Of all the good and wise ? Tho...
Page 302 - I leave thee, beauteous Italy ! no more From the high terraces, at even-tide, To look supine into thy depths of sky, Thy golden moon between the cliff and me, Or thy dark spires of fretted cypresses Bordering the channel of the milky- way.