The Poetical and Dramatic Works of S. T. Coleridge, Volumen2

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Little, Brown & Company, 1861
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Página 32 - There was a time when, though my path was rough, This joy within me dallied with distress, And all misfortunes were but as the stuff Whence Fancy made me dreams of happiness : For Hope grew round me, like the twining vine, And fruits, and foliage, not my own, seemed mine.
Página 34 - Tis of the rushing of an host in rout. With groans, of trampled men, with smarting wounds — At once they groan with pain, and shudder with the cold! But hush! there is a pause of deepest silence! And all that noise, as of a rushing crowd, With groans, and tremulous shudderings— all is over — It tells another tale, with sounds less deep and loud! A tale of less affright. And tempered with delight. As Otway's self- had framed the tender lay.
Página 145 - LOVE, HOPE, AND PATIENCE IN EDUCATION. O'EK wayward childhood would'st thou hold firm rule, And sun thee in the light of happy faces ; Love, Hope, and Patience, these must be thy graces, And in thine own heart let them first keep school.
Página 77 - twixt Now and Then ! This breathing House not built with hands, This body that does me grievous wrong, O'er aery Cliffs and glittering Sands, How lightly then it flashed along...
Página 35 - Visit her, gentle Sleep! with wings of healing, And may this storm be but a mountain-birth, May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling, Silent as though they watched the sleeping Earth! With light heart may she rise, Gay fancy, cheerful eyes, Joy lift her spirit, joy attune her voice : To her may all things live, from Pole to Pole, Their life the eddying of her living soul ! O simple spirit, guided from above, Dear Lady ! friend devoutest of my choice, Thus mayest thou ever, evermore rejoice.
Página 168 - Remorse is as the heart in which it grows : If that be gentle, it drops balmy dews Of true repentance ; but if proud and gloomy, It is a poison-tree, that pierced to the inmost Weeps only tears of poison.
Página 68 - ERE on my bed my limbs I lay, It hath not been my use to pray With moving lips or bended knees ; But silently, by slow degrees, My spirit I to Love compose, In humble Trust mine eye-lids close, With reverential resignation, No wish conceived, no thought expressed ! Only a sense of supplication.
Página 31 - And from the soul itself must there be sent A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth, Of all sweet sounds the life and element ! v. O pure of heart ! thou need'st not ask of me What this strong music in the soul may be. What, and wherein it doth exist, This light, this glory, this fair luminous mist, This beautiful and beauty-making power.
Página 103 - The river Rhine, it is well known, Doth wash your city of Cologne ; But tell me, Nymphs ! what power divine Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine ? ON MY JOYFUL DEPARTURE FROM THE SAME CITY.
Página 62 - It sounds like stories from the land of spirits, If any man obtain that which he merits, Or any merit that which he obtains.

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