Treasure Island

Thomas Chatterton

(1752 - 1770 / Bristol / England)

Quotations

  • ''Mie love ys dedde,
    Gon to hys death-bedde,
    Al under the wyllowe tree.

    Waterre wytches, crownede wythe reytes,
    Bere mee to yer leathalle tyde.
    I die; I comme; mie true love waytes.
    Thos the damselle spake, and dyed.''
    Thomas Chatterton (1752-1770), British poet. Aella; a Tragycal Enterlude (l. 54-60). . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.
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  • ''Liste! now the thunder's rattling clymmynge sound
    Cheves slowlie on, and then embollen clangs,
    Shakes the hie spyre, and losst, dispended, drown'd,
    Still on the gallard eare of terroure hanges;
    The windes are up; the lofty elmen swanges;
    Again the levynne and the thunder poures,
    And the full cloudes are braste attenes in stonen showers.''
    Thomas Chatterton (1752-1770), British poet. An Excelente Balade of Charitie (l. 36-42). . . The Oxford Anthology of English Poetry. Vol. I: Spenser to Crabbe. John Wain, ed. (1990) Oxford University Press.
  • ''It is my PRIDE, my damn'd, native, unconquerable Pride, that plunges me into Distraction. You must know that 19-20th of my Composition is Pride. I must either live a Slave, a Servant; to have no Will of my own, no Sentiments of my own which I may freely declare as such;Mor DIE—perplexing alternative!''
    Thomas Chatterton (1752-1770), British poet. Letter, April 1770. Quoted in John Cranstoun Nevill, Thomas Chatterton (1948).
  • ''There is a time for all things—Except 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 things." The Complete Works of Thomas Chatterton, vol. 1 (1971).

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Song from Aella

O SING unto my roundelay,
O drop the briny tear with me;
Dance no more at holyday,
Like a running river be:
   My love is dead,
   Gone to his death-bed
All under the willow-tree.

Black his cryne as the winter night,

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