The poetical works of S.T. Coleridge, including the dramas of Wallenstein, Remorse, and Zapolya, Volume 1
William Pickering, 1829
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The Poetical Works of S.T. Coleridge: Including the Dramas of Wallenstein ...
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
No preview available - 2018
The Poetical Works of S.T. Coleridge, Including the Dramas of Wallenstein ...
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
No preview available - 2019
Common terms and phrases
amid beautiful beneath blessed breast breath bright calm cheek child close clouds dance dark dear Death deep dream Earth face fair Fancy fear feel fire flowers Friend gaze gentle give green groans hand hath head hear heard heart Heaven hill holy Hope hour infant Lady leave light listening living look Love Maid meek mind Moon morning Mother murmur native Nature never night o'er once pain pale passed Peace pleasure Poem poor rest rise rose round seems sigh silent sing sleep slow smile soft song soon soothed sorrows soul sound spirit stars strain strange stream sweet swell tears tell thee things thou thought tree Truth vale voice waves wild wind wing wood young youth
Page 320 - The shadow of the dome of pleasure Floated midway on the waves; Where was heard the mingled measure From the fountain and the caves. It was a miracle of rare device, A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
Page 319 - The Author continued for about three hours in a profound sleep, at least of the external senses, during which time he has the most vivid confidence, that he could not have composed less than from two to three hundred lines...
Page 319 - ... a person on business from Porlock, and detained by him above an hour, and on his return to his room, found, to his no small surprise and mortification, that though he still retained some vague and dim recollection of the general purport of the vision, yet, with the exception of some eight or ten scattered lines and images, all the rest had passed away like the images on the surface of a stream into which a stone had been cast, but, alas! without the after restoration of the latter.
Page 245 - When he had better far have stretched his limbs Beside a brook in mossy forest-dell, By sun or moon-light, to the influxes Of shapes and sounds and shifting elements Surrendering his whole spirit, of his song And of his fame forgetful!
Page 229 - Friends, whom I never more may meet again, On springy heath along the hill-top edge, Wander in gladness, and wind down, perchance, To that still roaring dell, of which I told; The roaring dell, o'erwooded, narrow, deep, And only speckled by the mid-day sun...
Page 231 - With sad yet patient soul, through evil and pain And strange calamity! Ah! slowly sink Behind the western ridge, thou glorious sun! Shine in the slant beams of the sinking orb, Ye purple heath-flowers! richlier burn, ye clouds! Live in the yellow light, ye distant groves! And kindle, thou blue ocean! So my Friend Struck with deep joy may stand, as I have stood, Silent with swimming sense...
Page 250 - Inaudible as dreams ! the thin blue flame Lies on my low-burnt fire, and quivers not; Only that film, which fluttered on the grate, Still flutters there, the sole unquiet thing. Methinks, its motion in this hush of nature Gives it dim sympathies with me who live, Making it a companionable form, Whose puny flaps and freaks the idling Spirit By its own moods interprets, everywhere Echo or mirror seeking of itself, And makes a toy of Thought.
Page 136 - Cairo's swamps of pestilence, Even so, my countrymen I have we gone forth And borne to distant tribes slavery and pangs, And, deadlier far, our vices, whose deep taint With slow perdition murders the whole man, His body and his soul!
Page 321 - twould win me That with music loud and long, I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome ! those caves of ice ! And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware ! Beware ! His flashing eyes, his floating hair ! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.
Page 151 - ALL thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame.