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How fixed and feverishly brilliant were her large dark-blue eyes! ... how set were the sensitive lines of her mouth! how indifferent she seemed, how totally unaware of the Laureate's presence! The priest who brought her retired into the background, and she remained where he left her, quite mute and motionless.
He walked slowly, with proudly-assured mien and a confident smile, bowing right and left in response to the respectful salutations he received from all assembled, many persons glanced inquisitively at Theos, but as he was the Laureate's companion he was saluted with nearly equal courtesy.
But Dorset died in 1706; the Laureate's dull heroics found no vent; and ere the death of Queen Anne, an event which he bewailed in the least contemptible of his odes, his revenues were contracted to the official stipend. The accession of the house of Hanover, in 1714, was the downfall of Toryism; and Tate was a Tory. His ruin was complete. The Elector spared not the house of Pindar.
Listen to the Christmas bells ringing two miles away at Barnsley village I we can never tire of the sound here, for it is only on very still days that it reaches us across the wolds. I have culled these lines from the poet laureate's charming "Christmas Carol," as they are both singularly beautiful and singularly appropriate to our Cotswold village.
According to the more modern version, the inhabitants were enjoined to remain within doors, and, in the Laureate's words: "one low churl, compact of thankless earth, The fatal byword of all years to come, Boring a little auger-hole in fear, Peep'd but his eyes, before they had their will, Were shrivell'd into darkness in his head, And dropt before him.
'Then, said Armstrong, 'the Poet Laureate's a drivelling idiot, like his predecessor. 'What? Paul asked, underneath his breath. He had never listened to such blasphemy. 'In my day, said Armstrong, 'a poet laid a table for men to eat and drink at. We'd Sir Walter's beef and bannocks, and puir young Byron's Athol brose.
It was on him that her eyes were fixed while the accomplished Theobald was giving her a lively account of a concert at the Eyre Arms; and it was the fascination of his presence which made her answer at random to her cousin's questions about the last volume of the Laureate's, which she had been lately reading. Even Mr.
To begin with, he was a friend of Ben Jonson and wrote a set of commendatory verses for the Laureate's "Sejanus." These appear in the folio edition of Jonson's works. Probably this sonnet it has fourteen lines is one of the most cryptic things in the whole of Elizabethan literature. No member of our family or any other family has ever been able to construe it.
There died the man who had sung, and wandered, and loved; who had been slighted, and imprisoned for a madman; who had escaped and hidden himself, and had yet been glorious; who had come to Rome at last to receive the laureate's crown in the Capitol, as Petrarch had been crowned before him.
To those who know the Memoir by his son, Hallam Tennyson, a memoir that while paying honor to filial reverence and devotion is at the same time and in all respects most worthy of its high theme, the events in the poet's life will hardly need dwelling upon, though they throw much light on, and impart the distinction of a high dignity to, the Laureate's work.
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