Thomas Chatterton was born in Bristol on November 20, 1752 and is generally regarded as the first Romantic poet in English.
Throughout his early childhood Chatterton showed no signs of talent. He was regarded as little better than an idiot until he was about six and a half years old, because he would learn nothing, refused to play with other children, and spent most of his time brooding in silence. He was expelled from his first school as a dullard.
It appears that he underwent a considerable transformation in his seventh year. The story goes that one day he found his mother tearing up for waste paper some old music folios which had been brought home from the church ... more »
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Thomas Chatterton Poems
A Hymn for Christmas Day
Almighty Framer of the Skies! O let our pure devotion rise, Like Incense in thy Sight! Wrapt in impenetrable Shade
A New Song
Ah blame me not, Catcott, if from the right way My notions and actions run far. How can my ideas do other but stray, Deprived of their ruling North-Star?
Begin, my muse, the imitative lay, Aonian doxies sound the thrumming string; Attempt no number of the plaintive Gay, Let me like midnight cats, or Collins sing.
In days of old, when Wesley's power Gathered new strength by every hour; Apostate Will, just sunk in trade, Resolved his bargain should be made;
Ælla, a Tragical Interlude (excerpt)
FYRSTE MYNSTRELLE... The boddynge flourettes bloshes atte the lyghte;
Young Colin was as stout a boy As ever gave a maiden joy; But long in vain he told his tale To black-eyed Biddy of the Dale.
An Excelente Balade of Charitie: As Wrot...
In Virgynë the sweltrie sun gan sheene, And hotte upon the mees did caste his raie; The apple rodded from its palie greene, And the mole peare did bende the leafy spraie;
Eclogue the First. Whanne Englonde, smeethynge from her lethal wounde, From her galled necke dyd twytte the chayne awaie,
Burgum, I thank thee, thou hast let me see That Bristol has impress'd her stamp on thee, Thy generous spirit emulates the Mayor's, Thy generous spirit with thy Bristol's pairs.
The Copernican System
The Sun revolving on his axis turns, And with creative fire intensely burns; Impell'd by forcive air, our Earth supreme, Rolls with the planets round the solar gleam.
Battle Of Hastings - I
O CHRYSTE, it is a grief for me to tell; HOW manie a nobil erle and valrous knyghte In fyghtynge for Kynge Harrold noblie fell,
Battle Of Hastings - II
OH Truth! immortal daughter of the skies, Too lyttle known to wryters of these daies, Teach me, fayre Saincte! hy passynge worthe to pryze,
Elinoure And Juga
ONNE Ruddeborne bank twa pynynge Maydens sate, Theire teares faste dryppeynge to the waterre cleere; Echone bementynge for her absente mate.
Ælla, A Tragical Interlude - Act I
SCENE I. CELMONDE, att BRYSTOWE. Before yonne roddie sonne has droove hys wayne Throwe halfe hys joornie, dyghte yn gites of goulde,
Quotationsmore quotations »
''There is a time for all thingsExcept Marriage my dear.''Thomas Chatterton (1752-1770), British poet. Reply, April 9, 1770, to a note from an admirer who bids him be patient, "for there is a time for all thi...
Comments about Thomas Chatterton
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
A Hymn for Christmas Day
Almighty Framer of the Skies!
O let our pure devotion rise,
Like Incense in thy Sight!
Wrapt in impenetrable Shade
The Texture of our Souls were made
Till thy Command gave light.
The Sun of Glory gleam'd the Ray,
Refin'd the Darkness into Day,
And bid the Vapours fly;
Impell'd by his eternal Love
He left his Palaces above
To cheer our gloomy Sky.
How shall we celebrate the day,
When God appeared in mortal clay,
The mark of worldly scorn;
When the Archangel's heavenly Lays,
Attempted the Redeemer's Praise
And hail'd ...