The Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge: Prose and Verse |
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Page xix
... Arms , Ross Lines to a beautiful Spring in a Village ib . .. 8 Lines on a Friend , who died of a frenzy fe- ver induced by calumnious reports To a Young Lady , with a Poem on the French Revolution .. ib . MEMOIR OF SAMUEL TAYLOR ...
... Arms , Ross Lines to a beautiful Spring in a Village ib . .. 8 Lines on a Friend , who died of a frenzy fe- ver induced by calumnious reports To a Young Lady , with a Poem on the French Revolution .. ib . MEMOIR OF SAMUEL TAYLOR ...
Page xix
... Arms , Ross Lines to a beautiful Spring in a Village Lines on a Friend , who died of a frenzy fe- ver induced by calumnious reports To a Young Lady , with a Poem on the French Revolution .. Sonnet . " My heart has thanked thee , Bowles ...
... Arms , Ross Lines to a beautiful Spring in a Village Lines on a Friend , who died of a frenzy fe- ver induced by calumnious reports To a Young Lady , with a Poem on the French Revolution .. Sonnet . " My heart has thanked thee , Bowles ...
Page 7
... ARMS And Laughter tickle Plenty's ribless side ! How thou wouldst toss thy heels in gamesome play , And frisk about , as lamb or kitten gay ! Yea ! and more musically sweet te me Thy dissonant harsh bray of joy would be , Than warbled ...
... ARMS And Laughter tickle Plenty's ribless side ! How thou wouldst toss thy heels in gamesome play , And frisk about , as lamb or kitten gay ! Yea ! and more musically sweet te me Thy dissonant harsh bray of joy would be , Than warbled ...
Page 12
... arms , Nestling thy little face in that fond breast Whose anxious heavings lull thee to thy rest ! Man's breathing Miniature ! thou makest me sigh- A Babe art thou - and such a thing am I ! To anger rapid and as soon appeased , For ...
... arms , Nestling thy little face in that fond breast Whose anxious heavings lull thee to thy rest ! Man's breathing Miniature ! thou makest me sigh- A Babe art thou - and such a thing am I ! To anger rapid and as soon appeased , For ...
Page 12
... arms , Nestling thy little face in that fond breast Whose anxious heavings lull thee to thy rest ! Man's breathing Miniature ! thou makest me sigh- A Babe art thou - and such a thing am I ! To anger rapid and as soon appeased , For ...
... arms , Nestling thy little face in that fond breast Whose anxious heavings lull thee to thy rest ! Man's breathing Miniature ! thou makest me sigh- A Babe art thou - and such a thing am I ! To anger rapid and as soon appeased , For ...
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Common terms and phrases
ALHADRA ALVAR arms beneath BETHLEN BILLAUD VARENNES blessed breast BUTLER CASIMIR clouds Coleridge COUNTESS dare dark dear doth dream DUCHESS Duke earth Egra Elbe EMERICK Emperor evil faith fancy father fear feelings gaze genius GLYCINE GORDON hand hast hath hear heard heart Heaven honor hope hour human ILLO Illyria ISIDORE ISOLANI Jacobins lady language LASKA light living look Lord Lyrical Ballads means metre mind moral mother nature Nether Stowey never night o'er object OCTAVIO OLD BATHORY once ORDONIO passion philosophical Piccolomini poem poet poetic poetry present principles QUESTENBERG RAAB KIUPRILI Ratzeburg reader reason ROBESPIERRE round SAROLTA SCENE seem'd sense song SONNET soul speak spirit sweet tale tears TERESA TERTSKY thee THEKLA thine things thou thought tion truth VALDEZ voice WALLENSTEIN whole wild words WRANGEL youth ZAPOLYA
Popular passages
Page 37 - The moving Moon went up the sky, And no where did abide: Softly she was going up, And a star or two beside — Her beams bemocked the sultry main, Like April hoar-frost spread ; But where the ship's huge shadow lay, The charmed water burnt alway A still and awful red. Beyond the shadow of the ship, I watched the water-snakes: They moved in tracks of shining white, And when they reared, the elfish light Fell off in hoary flakes.
Page 186 - All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower. The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene, Had blended with the lights of eve; And she was there, my hope, my joy, My own dear Genevieve!
Page 22 - All this long eve, so balmy and serene, Have I been gazing on the western sky, And its peculiar tint of yellow green: And still I gaze— and with how blank an eye!
Page 38 - Is this the man? By him who died on cross, With his cruel bow he laid full low The harmless Albatross. • The spirit who bideth by himself In the land of mist and snow, He loved the bird that loved the man Who shot him with his bow.
Page 29 - Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail, Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail : And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever It flung up momently the sacred river. Five miles meandering with a mazy motion Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, Then reached the caverns measureless to man, And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean : And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far Ancestral voices prophesying war...
Page 187 - All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair — The bees are stirring — birds are on the wing — And Winter slumbering in the open air, Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring! And I the while, the sole unbusy thing, Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.
Page 12 - And what if all of animated nature Be but organic harps diversely framed That tremble into thought, as o'er them sweeps, Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze, At once the Soul of each, and God of all...
Page 38 - gan stir, With a short uneasy motion — Backwards and forwards half her length With a short uneasy motion. Then like a pawing horse let go, She made a sudden bound : It flung the blood into my head, And I fell down in a swound.
Page 38 - twas like all instruments, Now like a lonely flute; And now it is an angel's song, That makes the heavens be mute. It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Page 17 - In the great city, pent mid cloisters dim, And saw nought lovely but the sky and stars. But thou, my babe, shalt wander like a breeze By lakes and sandy shores, beneath the crags Of ancient mountain, and beneath the clouds Which image in their bulk both lakes and shores And mountain crags : so shalt thou see and hear The lovely shapes and sounds intelligible Of that eternal language, which thy God Utters, who from eternity doth teach Himself in all, and all things in Himself.