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Homes and Haunts of the Most Eminent British Poets, Volume 1
No preview available - 2016
Homes and Haunts of the Most Eminent British Poets, Volume 2
No preview available - 2015
Homes and Haunts of the Most Eminent British Poets
William 1792-1879 Howitt
No preview available - 2016
abode Addison admiration afterwards Allan Cunningham amid amongst ancient appears Ballater Ballymahon beautiful Burns Burns's Byron called castle character Chatterton Chaucer church Colston's school cottage Cowper daughter death descendants Dryden Earl Edgeworthstown England Faerie Queene fame father feeling friends garden genius glorious Goldsmith ground hand haunts heart hills honour Hudibras Ireland James Thomson Johnson Kilkenny Lady literary lived lodgings London look Lord Lord Byron marriage married Mauchline meadows ment miles Milton mind monument mother nature never noble Oliver Goldsmith once poem poet poet's poetical poetry poor Pope present Queen remains residence river Robert Burns says scene seems Shakspeare Shanter Shelley side soon soul Spenser spirit spot stands Swift Tarbolton Thomas Chatterton Thomson Tighe tion took tower town trees Twickenham village walk wall whole wife William Canynge woods wrote
Page 42 - On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth So great an object: can this cockpit hold The vasty fields of France? or may we cram Within this wooden O the very casques That did affright the air at Agincourt?
Page 89 - The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, But swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread; Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said; But that two-handed engine at the door 130 Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
Page 71 - Return Alpheus, the dread voice is past, That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian Muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast Their bells, and flowerets of a thousand hues. Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks; Throw hither all your quaint enamell'd eyes, That on the green turf suck the honied showers, And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Page 45 - O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide Than public means which public manners breeds. Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
Page 282 - Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds : Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the Moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Page 17 - Full little knowest thou, that hast not tried, What hell it is in suing long to bide ; To lose good days that might be better spent ; To waste long nights in pensive discontent; To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow ; To feed on hope ; to pine with fear and sorrow ; To have thy Prince's grace, yet want her peers...
Page 76 - While the ploughman near at hand Whistles o'er the furrowed land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale. Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures Whilst the landscape round it measures...
Page 430 - O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim...
Page 342 - Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang, To step aside is human : One point must still be greatly dark, The moving Why they do it ; And just as lamely can ye mark, How far perhaps they rue it. Who made the heart, 'tis He alone Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord its various tone, Each spring its various bias : Then at the balance let's be mute, We never can adjust it ; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
Page 52 - Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was an hungered, and ye gave me no meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me no drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me not in; naked, and ye clothed me not; sick, and in prison, and ye visited me not.