Life, Letters, and Literary Remains, of John KeatsG. P. Putnam, 1848 - 393 páginas |
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Página 20
... Lord Byron , and indited a Sonnet , of little merit , to him in December , 1814- 66 Byron ! how sweetly sad thy melody ! Attuning still the soul to tenderness , As if soft Pity , with unusual stress , Had touched her plaintive lute ...
... Lord Byron , and indited a Sonnet , of little merit , to him in December , 1814- 66 Byron ! how sweetly sad thy melody ! Attuning still the soul to tenderness , As if soft Pity , with unusual stress , Had touched her plaintive lute ...
Página 32
... Lord Byron speaks with praise of several pieces , and at- MY DEAR REYNOLDS , CARISBROOKE , April 17th , 1817 32 32 LIFE AND LETTERS OF.
... Lord Byron speaks with praise of several pieces , and at- MY DEAR REYNOLDS , CARISBROOKE , April 17th , 1817 32 32 LIFE AND LETTERS OF.
Página 39
... Lord , Does conquer him , that did his master conquer , And earns a place i ' the story . " ' Tis good , too , that ... Lord Byron and some of his Con- temporaries . " How- thing , I was too much in solitude , JOHN KEATS . 39.
... Lord , Does conquer him , that did his master conquer , And earns a place i ' the story . " ' Tis good , too , that ... Lord Byron and some of his Con- temporaries . " How- thing , I was too much in solitude , JOHN KEATS . 39.
Página 77
... Lord Byron's Fourth Canto is expected out , and I heard somewhere , that Walter Scott has a new poem in readiness . I have not yet read Shelley's poem : I do not suppose you have it yet at the Teignmouth libra- ries . These double ...
... Lord Byron's Fourth Canto is expected out , and I heard somewhere , that Walter Scott has a new poem in readiness . I have not yet read Shelley's poem : I do not suppose you have it yet at the Teignmouth libra- ries . These double ...
Página 139
... Lord Byron " that he was ex- cited by this article into a rage of jealous injustice . The recog- nition , by so high an authority , of Keats as a Poet , already great and becoming greater , was more than his patience could endure : for ...
... Lord Byron " that he was ex- cited by this article into a rage of jealous injustice . The recog- nition , by so high an authority , of Keats as a Poet , already great and becoming greater , was more than his patience could endure : for ...
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Términos y frases comunes
affectionate friend Albert Auranthe Bailey beauty Bertha breathe bright brother Brown Castle Conrad dare DEAR REYNOLDS death delight Dilke doth Elgin Marbles Emperor Endymion Erminia Ethelbert Exeunt eyes fair fame feel flowers genius George George Keats Gersa give Glocester Gonfred Hampstead hand happy Haydon head hear heard heart Heaven honor hope Hunt imagination Isle of Wight JOHN KEATS Keats's lady leave Leigh Hunt letter literary live look Lord Lord Byron Ludolph mind morning nature never night noble numbers Otho pain Paradise Lost pass passion perhaps pleasure poem poet poetical poetry poor Port Patrick Prince Severn Shakspeare Sigifred sister sleep soft song Sonnet soon sort soul speak spirit Staffa sure sweet TEIGNMOUTH tell thee thine thing thou thought tion to-day verse walk wings word Wordsworth write written wrote
Pasajes populares
Página 367 - I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful - a faery's child, Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild.
Página 143 - The Genius of Poetry must work out its own salvation in a man. It cannot be matured by law and precept, but by sensation and watchfulness in itself. That which is creative must create itself.
Página 69 - Dilke on various subjects; several things dove-tailed in my mind, and at once it struck me what quality went to form a Man of Achievement, especially in Literature, and which Shakespeare possessed so enormously — I mean Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason...
Página 247 - He has outsoared the shadow of our night; Envy and calumny and hate and pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again; From the contagion of the world's slow stain He is secure, and now can never mourn A heart grown cold, a head grown grey in vain; Nor, when the spirit's self has ceased to burn, With sparkless ashes load an unlamented urn.
Página 245 - And flowering weeds, and fragrant copses dress The bones of Desolation's nakedness Pass, till the Spirit of the spot shall lead Thy footsteps to a slope of green access Where, like an infant's smile, over the dead, 440 A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread.
Página 95 - Or may I woo thee In earlier Sicilian ? or thy smiles Seek as they once were sought, in Grecian isles, By bards who died content on pleasant sward, Leaving great verse unto a little clan ? O, give me their old vigour, and unheard Save of the quiet Primrose, and the span Of heaven and few ears, Rounded by thee, my song should die away Content as theirs, Rich in the simple worship of a day.
Página 142 - Our Adonais has drunk poison — Oh! What deaf and viperous murderer could crown Life's early cup with such a draught of woe? The nameless worm would now itself disown: It felt, yet could escape, the magic tone Whose prelude held all envy, hate, and wrong, But what was howling in one breast alone, Silent with expectation of the song, Whose master's hand is cold, whose silver lyre unstrung.
Página 143 - Praise or blame has but a momentary effect on the man whose love of beauty in the abstract makes him a severe critic on his own Works. My own domestic criticism has given me pain without comparison beyond what Blackwood or the Quarterly could possibly inflict — and also when I feel I am right, no external praise can give me such a glow as my own solitary reperception and ratification of what is fine.
Página 32 - Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up ; urchins Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, All exercise on thee ; thou shalt be pinch'd As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em.
Página 74 - I MET a traveller from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, * Tell that its sculptor well those passions read...