''Mie love ys dedde,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.
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.''
''Liste! now the thunder's rattling clymmynge soundThomas 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.
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.''
''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 DIEperplexing alternative!''Thomas Chatterton (1752-1770), British poet. Letter, April 1770. Quoted in John Cranstoun Nevill, Thomas Chatterton (1948).
''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 things." The Complete Works of Thomas Chatterton, vol. 1 (1971).
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Heccar and Gaira
Where the rough Caigra rolls the surgy wave,
Urging his thunders thro' the echoing cave;
Where the sharp rocks, in distant horror seen,
Drive the white currents thro' the spreading green;
Where the loud tiger, pawing in his rage,
Bids the black archers of the wilds engage;
Stretch'd on the sand, two panting warriors lay,
In all the burning torments of the day;
Their bloody jav'lins reeked one living steam,