William Taylor Collins
WILLIAM COLLINS was born at Chichester on the twenty-fifth of December, about 1720. His father was a hatter of good reputation. He was in 1733, as Dr. Warton has kindly informed me, admitted scholar of Winchester College, where he was educated by Dr. Burton. His English exercises were better than his Latin.
He first courted the notice of the publick by some verses To a Lady weeping, published in The Gentleman's Magazine.
In 1740 he stood first in the list of the scholars to be received in succession at New College; but unhappily there was no vacancy. This was the original misfortune of his life. He became a Commoner of Queen's College, probably with a ... more »
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William Taylor Collins Poems
A Song from Shakespeare's Cymbeline Sung...
To fair Fidele's grassy tomb Soft maids and village hinds shall bring Each op'ning sweet, of earliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing spring.
Ode to Simplicity
O thou, by Nature taught To breathe her genuine thought In numbers warmly pure, and sweetly strong; Who first on mountains wild,
Ode to Evening
If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song, May hope, chaste Eve, to soothe thy modest ear, Like thy own solemn springs, Thy springs and dying gales,
In the Downhill of Life
In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining, May my lot no less fortunate be Than a snug elbow-chair can afford for reclining, And a cot that o'erlooks the wide sea;
How Sleep The Brave
HOW sleep the brave, who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallow'd mould,
Eclogue the First Selim
SCENE, a Valley near Bagdat TIME, the Morning `Ye Persian maids, attend your poet's lays, And hear how shepherds pass their golden days:
Eclogue the Second Hassan
SCENE, the Desert TIME, Mid-day 10 In silent horror o'er the desert-waste The driver Hassan with his camels passed. One cruse of water on his back he bore,
Written in the beginning of the Year 1746. HOW sleep the Brave, who sink to Rest, By all their Country's Wishes blest!
Dirge In Cymbeline
TO fair Fidele's grassy tomb Soft maids and village hinds shall bring Each opening sweet of earliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing spring.
An Epistle Addressed To Sir Thomas Hanme...
WHILE, born to bring the Muse's happier days, A patriot's hand protects a poet's lays, While nurs'd by you she sees her myrtles bloom, Green and unwither'd o'er his honour'd tomb;
Ode to Pity
O THOU, the Friend of Man assign'd, With balmy Hands his Wounds to bind, And charm his frantic Woe: When first Distress with Dagger keen
Ode on the Poetical Character
As once, if not with light regard, I read aright that gifted bard, (Him whose school above the rest His loveliest Elfin Queen has blest,)
O D E, To a Lady on the Death of Colon...
1. W H I L E, lost to all his former Mirth, Britannia's Genius bends to Earth,
Ode to Fear
Thou, to whom the world unknown With all its shadowy shapes, is shown; Who seest, appalled, the unreal scene, While fancy lifts the veil between:
Comments about William Taylor Collins
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
A Song from Shakespeare's Cymbeline Sung by Guiderus and Ar
To fair Fidele's grassy tomb
Soft maids and village hinds shall bring
Each op'ning sweet, of earliest bloom,
And rifle all the breathing spring.
No wailing ghost shall dare appear,
To vex with shrieks this quiet grove:
But shepherd lads assemble here,
And melting virgins own their love.
No wither'd witch shall here be seen,
No goblins lead their nightly crew:
The female fays shall haunt the green,
And dress thy grave with pearly dew!
The redbreast oft at ev'ning hours
Shall kindly lend his ...