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Updated: May 3, 2025
O broad and smooth the Avon flows By Stratford's many piers; And Shakespeare lies by Avon's side These thrice a hundred years; But I would be where Windrush sweet Laves Burford's lovely hill The grey old town on the lonely down Is where I would be still.
"Well, to let that point pass, it is monstrous to suppose that the title and the estates can remain hung up in this way for ever. I'm the heir, Tregellis, and I'm going to have my rights." "I am, as you are aware, Lord Avon's dearest friend," said my uncle, sternly.
"Near Avon's ridgy bank there grows A willow of no vulgar size, That tree first heard poor Silvio's woes, And heard how bright were Laura's eyes. Its boughs were shade from heat or show'r, Its roots a moss-grown seat became; Its leaves would strew the maiden's bow'r, Its bark was shatter'd with her name!
Furnivall, 'forgiven and forgiving, full of the highest wisdom and peace, at one with family and friends and foes, in harmony with Avon's flow and Stratford's level meads, Shakespeare closed his life on earth' we have obtained a piece of knowledge which is both interesting and pleasant.
"Soft flow'd the lay by Avon's sedgy side, While o'er its streams the drooping willow hung Beneath whose shadow Silvio fondly tried To check the opening roses as they sprung. In vain he bade them cease to court the gale, That wanton'd balmy on the zephyr's wing; In vain, when Philomel renew'd her tale, He chid her song, and said 'It was not Spring.
It was done in the nick of time, for the Comanche pressed the trigger just then, and the bullet which, had Avon's action been delayed a single moment, would have killed Captain Shirril, was buried in the timbers overhead. The daring act brought the youth directly in front of the window, where for the instant he was exposed to any shot from the outside.
It is clear that Stratford enjoyed three centuries of comparative peace, if not of substantial progress, before Norman William and Saxon Harold met at Senlac; echoes of that fray could not have pierced to the little town on Avon's banks. Nor have the subsequent centuries done much to disturb its natural seclusion.
"It is an old one now fourteen years old and yet they have not got to the end of it. There were four of them who had come down from London to spend a few days in Lord Avon's old house. One was his own young brother, Captain Barrington; another was his cousin, Sir Lothian Hume; Sir Charles Tregellis, my uncle, was the third; and Lord Avon the fourth.
"The Avon bears to endless years A magic voice along, Where Shakespeare strayed in Stratford's shade, And waked the world to song. We heard the music soft and wild, We thrilled to pulses new; The winds that reared the Avon's child Were Herga's nurses too." That evening John told Caesar what Warde had said to him, and then added, "I mean to have a shot at 'the Swan of Avon." Caesar looked glum.
"We all have our own feelings, Sir Charles; and you will permit me to say that a serving-man may resent an injury as much as a gentleman, though the redress of the duel is denied to him. But I am telling you frankly, at Lord Avon's request, all that I thought and did upon that night, and I shall continue to do so, even if I am not fortunate enough to win your approval.
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