The Poetical and Dramatic Works of S. T. Coleridge, Bind 3

Little, Brown & Company, 1861

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This volume consists of Coleridge's translations of The Piccolomini and The Death of Wallenstein, originally written in German by Schiller. Læs hele anmeldelsen

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Side 31 - Blissful, and the enduring Mighty ! Lo there ! the soldier, rapid architect ! Builds his light town of canvas, and at once The whole scene moves and bustles momently, With arms, and neighing steeds, and mirth and quarrel The motley market fills ; the roads, the streams Are crowded with new freights, trade stirs and hurries ! But on some morrow morn, all suddenly, The tents drop down, the horde renews its march. Dreary, and solitary as a church-yard The meadow and down-trodden seed-plot lie, And the...
Side 82 - For fable is Love's world, his home, his birthplace : Delightedly dwells he 'mong fays and talismans, And spirits ; and delightedly believes Divinities, being himself divine. The intelligible forms of ancient poets, The fair humanities of old religion...
Side 147 - Sterling to-morrow, for to-day 'twas sterling ! For of the wholly common is man made, And custom is his nurse ! Woe then to them, Who lay irreverent hands upon his old House furniture, the dear inheritance From his forefathers. For time consecrates ; And what is grey with age becomes religion...
Side 80 - I stepped in ; and now The narrowing line of day-light, that ran after The closing door, was gone ; and all about me 'Twas pale and dusky night, with many shadows Fantastically cast. Here six or seven Colossal statues, and all kings, stood round me In a half-circle.
Side 32 - Nor know aught of the main land, but the bays Where safeliest they may venture a thieves' landing. Whate'er in the inland dales the land conceals Of fair and exquisite, O ! nothing, nothing, Do we behold of that in our rude voyage.
Side 303 - He, the more fortunate ! yea, he hath finished ! For him there is no longer any future, His life is bright — bright without spot it was And cannot cease to be. No ominous hour Knocks at his door with tidings of mishap. Far off is he, above desire and fear ; No more submitted to the change and chance Of the unsteady planets.
Side 87 - The cloud doth gather, the greenwood roar, The damsel paces along the shore; The billows they tumble with might, with might; And she flings out her voice to the darksome night; Her bosom is swelling with sorrow; The world it is empty, the heart will die, There's nothing to wish for beneath the sky: Thou Holy One, call thy child away! I've lived and loved, and that was to-day— Make ready my grave-clothes to-morrow.
Side 173 - He kills thee, who condemns thee to inaction. So be it then ! maintain thee in thy post By violence. Resist the Emperor, And if it must be, force with force repel : I will not praise it, yet I can forgive it. But not — not to the traitor — yes ! — the word Is spoken out Not to the traitor can I yield a pardon.
Side 234 - I trust right soon To chase them to their homes across their Baltic. My cares are only for the whole : I have A heart — it bleeds within me for the miseries And piteous groaning of my fellow Germans. Ye are but common men, but yet ye think With minds not common ; ye appear to me Worthy before all others, that I whisper ye A...
Side 147 - And what is grey with age becomes religion. Be in possession, and thou hast the right, And sacred will the many guard it for thee ! [ To the Page, who here enters. The Swedish officer ?— Well, let him enter. [The Page exit, WALLENSTEIN fixes his eye in deep thought on the door.

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