Walter Savage Landor: A Biography, Volume 2

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Fields, Osgood, & Company, 1869 - Authors, English - 693 pages
 

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Page 590 - 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 51 - I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell ; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely ; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy ; for murmurings from within Were heard, sonorous cadences ! whereby, To his belief, the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea.
Page 52 - But I have sinuous shells of pearly hue Within, and they that lustre have imbibed In the sun's palace-porch, where when unyoked His chariot-wheel stands midway in the wave: Shake one and it awakens, then apply Its polisht lips to your attentive ear, And it remembers its august abodes, And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there.
Page 301 - ROSE AYLMER AH, WHAT avails the sceptred race! Ah ! what the form divine ! What every virtue, every grace ! Rose Aylmer, all were thine. Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes May weep, but never see, A night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee.
Page 199 - We are what suns and winds and waters make us The mountains are our sponsors, and the rills Fashion and win their nursling with their smiles. But where the land is dim from tyranny, There tiny pleasures occupy the place Of glories and of duties ; as the feet Of fabled faeries when the sun goes down Trip o'er the grass where wrestlers strove by day.
Page 476 - Twas vain, in holy ground He hid his face amid the shades of death. I waste for him my breath Who wasted his for me : but mine returns, And this lorn bosom burns With stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep, And waking me to weep Tears that had melted his soft heart : for years Wept he as bitter tears. Merciful God...
Page 670 - I came as one whose thoughts half linger, Half run before; The youngest to the oldest singer That England bore. I found him whom I shall not find Till all grief end, In holiest age our mightiest mind, Father and friend.
Page 466 - Comfort thee, O thou mourner, yet awhile! Again shall Elia's smile Refresh thy heart, where heart can ache no more. What is it we deplore? He leaves behind him, freed from griefs and years, Far worthier things than tears. The love of friends without a single foe: Unequalled lot below! His gentle soul, his genius, these are thine; 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 20 - For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair — he utters a moral idea. When Shakespeare says, that : We are such stuff As dreams are made of, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep, he utters- a moral idea.
Page 344 - ... alone can bring together. We raise no jealousy by conversing with one in preference to another: we give no offence to the most illustrious, by questioning him as long as we will, and leaving him as abruptly. Diversity of opinion raises no tumult in our presence: each interlocutor stands before us, speaks, or is silent, and we adjourn or decide the business at our leisure. Nothing is past which we desire to be present; and we enjoy by anticipation somewhat like the power which I imagine we shall...

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