George Darley

(1795 - 1846 / Dublin)

Quotations

  • ''There's many a white hand holds an urn
    With lovers' hearts to dust consumed.''
    George Darley (1795-1846), Irish poet. It Is Not Beauty I Demand (l. 23-24). OAEL-2. Oxford Anthology of English Literature, The, Vols. I-II. Frank Kermode and John Hollander, general eds. (1973) Oxford University Press (Also published as six paperback vols.: Medieval English Literature, J. B. Trapp, ed.; The Literature of Renaissance England, John Hollander and Frank Kermode, eds.; The Restoration and the Eighteenth Century, Martin Price, ed.; Romantic Poetry and Prose, Harold Bloom and Lionel Trilling, eds.; Victorian Prose and Poetry, Lionel Trilling and Harold Bloom, eds.; Modern British Literature, Frank Kermode and John Hollander, eds.).
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  • ''Her gorgeous death-bed! her rich pyre
    Burnt up with aromatic fire!''
    George Darley (1795-1846), Irish poet. Nepenthe (l. 9-12). OAEL-2. Oxford Anthology of English Literature, The, Vols. I-II. Frank Kermode and John Hollander, general eds. (1973) Oxford University Press (Also published as six paperback vols.: Medieval English Literature, J. B. Trapp, ed.; The Literature of Renaissance England, John Hollander and Frank Kermode, eds.; The Restoration and the Eighteenth Century, Martin Price, ed.; Romantic Poetry and Prose, Harold Bloom and Lionel Trilling, eds.; Victorian Prose and Poetry, Lionel Trilling and Harold Bloom, eds.; Modern British Literature, Frank Kermode and John Hollander, eds.).
  • ''In his green den the murmuring seal
    Close by his sleek companion lies;
    While singly we to bedward steal,
    And close in fruitless sleep our eyes.''
    George Darley (1795-1846), Irish poet. The Mermaiden's Vesper Hymn (l. 9-12). OBNC. Oxford Book of Nineteenth-Century English Verse, The. John Hayward, ed. (1964; reprinted, with corrections, 1965) Oxford University Press.

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The Fallen Star

A star is gone! a star is gone!
There is a blank in Heaven;
One of the cherub choir has done
His airy course this even.

He sat upon the orb of fire
That hung for ages there,
And lent his music to the choir
That haunts the nightly air.

[Hata Bildir]