File:The Argosy (1865) (14578206669).jpg

Identifier: argosythe48wood (find matches)
Title: The Argosy
Year: 1865 (1860s)
Authors: Wood, Henry, Mrs., 1814-1887 Wood, Charles W. (Charles William), b. 1850?
Subjects:
Publisher: London (etc.) R. Bentley (etc.)
Contributing Library: Robarts - University of Toronto
Digitizing Sponsor: University of Toronto

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ns nakedness,Pass till the spirit of the spot shall lead Thy footsteps to a slope of green recess.Where like an infants smile over the deadA light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread. And grey walls moulder round, on which dull Time Feeds, like slow fire upon a hoary brand ;And one keen pyramid, with wedge sublime. Pavilioning the dust of him who planned This refuge for his memory, doth standLike flame transformed to marble ; and beneath A field is spread, on which a newer bandHave pitched in Heavens smile their camp of death.Welcoming him we lose with scarce extinguished breath. In Keatss life there was more of human sadness than in that of * Ecco Roma ! 59 Shelley, but more of the divine trust. Keats had not Shelleys morbiddoubts and difficulties in regard to the unseen ; but his short life isan unbroken record of sadness and unhappiness. None of thejoys of earth were his. His heritage of genius brought him onlypain. He died unappreciated, his end probably hastened by that
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In the Campagna. * malicious power of his enemies; an exile ; lonely and alone.Shelley had many joys and pleasures. To be happy was a necessityof his being. Yet how morbid, how sad, were many of his days andhours; for under the necessity for happiness, there lurked for everthe shadows of doubt and melancholy. What a halo of romanceentwines itself about the names of those three poets, Byron, Shelleyand Keats. How associated are they with the sunny land of Italy, 6o Ecco Roma ! seeming a part of herself and her history as much as the names ofher own heroes. Who speaks of Ravenna and does not think ofByron; of Spezia, and does not dream of Shelley; of Rome, anddoes not muse on Keats ? For their sake alone Italy would belinked to every English heart, and all the records that have been leftof them are dear to us. We left the cemetery to its dead, with the sad records andassociations. We bade the gardener farewell, who, though having thecharge of these graves, little recks of the sentiment

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