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admiration beauty BERNARD BARTON blank verse bless Blind Harry brother Charles CHARLES LAMB Charles Lloyd Christ's Hospital Coleridge comfort criticism death delight dream Edinburgh Review Edmonton Emma Enfield excuse expression exquisite eyes fancy fear feel following letter genius George Dyer give Godwin happy Hazlitt heart heaven hope Islington Joan of Arc kind kindest lady Lamb's lines living Lloyd London look Magazine Mary Mary Lamb memory mind Miss Lamb Monody MOXON nature never night passage Peter Bell pleasant pleasure poem poet poetry poor Pray present pretty reason recollection Religious Musings remember Review scarce seems Shakspeare sister sometimes sonnet soul Southey spirit sweet tell thank things thou thought tion verses Vincent Bourne volume week Winterslow wish words write written wrote young youth
280 ページ - They will remember that temper which years of pain, of sickness, of lameness, of confinement, seemed only to make sweeter and sweeter ; and that frank politeness, which at once relieved all the embarrassment of the youngest and most timid writer or artist, who found himself for the first time among Ambassadors and Earls.
41 ページ - the former things are passed away,' and I have something more to do than to feel. " God Almighty have us well in his keeping. " C. LAMB." " Mention nothing of poetry. I have destroyed every vestige of past vanities of that kind. Do as you please, but if you publish, publish mine (I give free leave) without name or initial, and never send me a book, I charge you.
296 ページ - Ay, sir ; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
279 ページ - The time is coming when perhaps a few old men, the last survivors of our generation, will in vain seek, amidst new streets, and squares, and railway stations, fur the site of that dwelling which was in their youth the favourite resort of wits and beauties, of painters and poets, of scholars, philosophers, and statesmen. They will then remember, with strange tenderness, many objects...
139 ページ - ... that he hurls it at the intruder, or not improbably in the first instant of awakening, while yet both his imagination and his eyes are possessed by the dream, he actually hurls it. Some weeks after, perhaps, during which interval he had often mused on the incident, undetermined whether to deem it a visitation of Satan to him in the body or out of the body, he discovers for the first time the dark spot on his wall, and receives it as a sign and pledge vouchsafed to him of the event having actually...
326 ページ - Heroically fashioned — to infuse Faith in the whispers of the lonely Muse, While the whole world seems adverse to desert. And, oh ! when Nature sinks, as oft she may, Through long-lived pressure of obscure distress, Still to be strenuous for the bright reward, And in the soul admit of no decay, Brook no continuance of weak-mindedness — Great is the glory, for the strife is hard ! XLIII.
238 ページ - ... word escape him; on the contrary, he would often say, when his pains were most acute, ' I only wish it may please God to enable me to suffer without complaining; I have no right to complain.
329 ページ - Glittering in golden coats, like images ; As full of spirit as the month of May, And gorgeous as the sun at Midsummer ; Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.
346 ページ - There was Lamb himself, the most delightful, the most provoking, the most witty and sensible of men. He always made the best pun, and the best remark in the course of the evening. His serious conversation, like his serious writing, is his best. No one ever stammered out such fine, piquant, deep, eloquent things in half a dozen half-sentences as he does. His jests scald like tears : and he probes a question with a play upon words.
358 ページ - ... where daisies grow, The kindliest sprite earth holds within her breast ; In such a spot I would this frame should rest, When I to join my friend far hence shall go. His only mate is now the minstrel lark, Who chants her morning music o'er his bed, Save she who comes each evening, ere the bark Of watch-dog gathers drowsy folds, to shed A sister's tears. Kind Heaven, upon her head. Do thou in dove-like guise thy spirit pour, And in her aged path some flowerets spread Of earthly joy, should Time...