Richard Chenevix Trench
Richard Chenevix Trench was born on September 9, 1807, North Frederick Street, Dublin, Ireland. His father was Richard Trench, his mother Melesina, only grandchild and heiress of Richard Chenevix, Bishop of Waterford, and widow of Colonel St. George. Trench’s home in childhood was Elm Lodge, close to the village of Bursledon, not far from Southampton. In February, 1816 he attended Twyford School, and in 1819 Harrow, where he won great distinction. In October 1825 he entered Trinity College, Cambridge. His mother’s correspondence is full of references to a little periodical called "The Translator", begun in 1825, or immediately on his becoming an undergraduate. She was his ardent ... more »
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Richard Chenevix Trench Poems
Now the third and fatal conflict for the Persian throne was done, And the Moslem's fiery valor had the crowning victory won. Harmosan, the last and boldest the invader to defy,
I stood beside a pool, from whence ascended, Mounting the cloudy platforms of the wind, A stately heron; its soaring I attended, Till it grew dim, and I with watching blind--
A garden so well watered before morn Is hotly up, that not the swart sun's blaze Down beating with unmitigated rays, Nor arid winds from scorching places borne,
When hearts are full of yearning tenderness, For the loved absent, whom we can not reach -- By deed or token, gesture or kind speech, The spirit's true affection to express;
In A Pass of Bavaria
A sound of many waters!--now I know To what was likened the large utterance sent By Him who mid the golden lampads went: Innumerable streams, above, below,
Lord, what a change within us one short hour Spent in Thy presence will prevail to make -- What heavy burdens from our bosoms take, What parchèd grounds refresh, as with a shower!
The Onward Course
Our course is onward, onward into light: What though the darkness gathereth amain, Yet to return or tarry both are vain. How tarry, when around us is thick night?
ALL beautiful things bring sadness, nor alone Music, whereof that wisest poet spake; Because in us keen longings they awake After the good for which we pine and groan,
After The Battle
WE crown’d the hard-won heights at length, Baptiz’d in flame and fire; We saw the foeman’s sullen strength, That grimly made retire—
Quotationsmore quotations »
''Grammar is the logic of speech, even as logic is the grammar of reason.''Richard Chenevix Trench (1807-1886), Irish ecclesiastic, archbishop of Dublin. On the Study of Words, lecture 1 (1858).
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Now the third and fatal conflict for the Persian throne was done,
And the Moslem's fiery valor had the crowning victory won.
Harmosan, the last and boldest the invader to defy,
Captive overborne by numbers, they were bringing forth to die.
Then exclaimed the noble captive: "Lo! I perish in my thirst;
Give me but one drink of water, and let then arrive the worst!"
In his hand he took the goblet, but awhle the draught forbore,
Seeming doubtully the purpose of the foemen to explore.
Well might then have paused the bravest -- for around him angry ...