The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe: The borough, continued. Occasional pieces. The world of dreams. Tales

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Page 8 - I waked one morning in the beginning of last June from a dream, of which all I could recover was, that I had thought myself in an ancient castle (a very natural dream for a head filled like mine with Gothic story) and that on the uppermost bannister of a great staircase I saw a gigantic hand in armour. In the evening I sat down and began to write, without knowing in the least what I intended to say or relate.
Page 171 - To the very moment that he bade me tell it; Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, Of moving accidents by flood and field, Of hair-breadth 'scapes i...
Page 261 - I have heard of your paintings too, well enough ; God hath given you one face and you make yourselves another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance.
Page 283 - Ah me ! for aught that ever I could read, Could ever hear by tale or history, . The course of true love never did run smooth : J But, either it was different in blood ; — Lys.
Page 75 - School ; That, where a deaf, poor, patient Widow sits, And awes some thirty Infants as she knits ; Infants of humble, busy Wives, who pay Some trifling Price for Freedom through the day. At this good Matron's Hut the Children meet, Who thus becomes the Mother of the Street : Her Room is small, they cannot widely stray ,— Her Threshold high, they cannot run away : Letter 24.] SCHOOLS.
Page 143 - The great cause of the present deplorable state of English poetry is to be attributed to that absurd and systematic depreciation of Pope, in which, for the last few years, there has been a kind of epidemical concurrence.
Page 283 - Brief as the lightning in the collied night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth. And ere a man hath power to say, — Behold ! The jaws of darkness do devour it up : So quick bright things come to confusion.
Page 241 - Yes, I am proud ; I must be proud to see Men, not afraid of God, afraid of me ; Safe from the bar, the pulpit, and the throne, Yet touch'd and sham'd by ridicule alone.
Page 35 - I shall, despair. — There is no creature loves me ; And, if I die, no soul will pity me : — Nay, wherefore should they ? since that I myself Find in myself no pity to myself. Methought, the souls of all that I had murder'd Came to my tent : and every one did threat To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard.
Page 50 - He cried for mercy, which I kindly gave, But he has no compassion in his grave. 'There were three places, where they ever rose The whole long river has not such as those Places accursed, where, if a man remain, He'll see the things which strike him to the brain; And there they made me on my paddle lean, And look at them for hours; accursed scene! When they would glide to that smooth...

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