File:Shakespeare's England (1910) (14594605659).jpg

Identifier: shakespearesengl00win (find matches)
Title: Shakespeare's England
Year: 1910 (1910s)
Authors: Winter, William, 1836-1917
Subjects: Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616
Publisher: New York, Moffat, Yard and Company
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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finest inEngland, a grand cathedral aisle of giant lime-trees. To that retreat the author of The AncientMariner retired, in 1815, to live with his friendJames Gilman, a doctor, who had undertakento rescue him from the demon of opium. Itwas his last refuge, and he never left it tillhe was released from life. As you ramble inthat quiet neighborhood your fancy will notfail to conjure up his placid figure,—the silverhair, the pale face, the great, luminous, change-ful, blue eyes, the somewhat portly form,clothed in black raiment, the slow, feeble walk,the sweet, benignant manner, the voice thatwas perfect melody, and the inexhaustible talkthat was the flow of a golden sea of eloquence,learning, and wisdom. Coleridge was oftenseen walking there, with a book in his hand,and the children of the village knew and lovedhim. His presence is impressed upon the place,to haunt and to hallow it. He was a verygreat man. The wings of his imagination waveeasily in the opal air of the highest heaven.
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SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 0 capacious soul!Placed on this earth to love and understand And from thy presence sited the lit/lit of love. WORDSWORTH. HIGHGATE AND COLERIDGE 261 The power and majesty of his thought aresuch as irresistibly establish in the human mindthe conviction of personal immortality. Yet,how forlorn the ending of his days! For morethan thirty years Coleridge was the slave ofopium. It blighted his home; it alienated hiswife; it ruined his health; it made him utterlywretched. I have been, through a large por-tion of my later life, he wrote, in 1834,a sufferer, sorely afflicted with bodily pains,languor, and manifold infirmities. But, moreafflicting and harder to bear, was he not thevictim of some ingrained perversity of themind, some helpless, hopeless irresolution ofcharacter, some enervating spell of that sub-lime yet pitiable dejection of Hamlet, whichkept him always at war with himself, and,finally, cast him out upon the homeless oceanof despair, to drift away into r

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