I lived from 1775-1864.
I was from England, and am in the English category.
Waltor Savage Landor was born in 1775 at Ipsley Court, Warwick, England. The son of a doctor and his wealthy wife, Landor was educated at Rugby School until he was eventually expelled due to insolence and was again later suspended from Trinity college, Oxford in 1794 after firing a shotgun inside his rooms.
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In 1805 he inherited his family estate in Staffordshire which he later sold to buy Llanthony Abbey in Wales. In 1808 he ventured off to Spain to fight against France as a volunteer in the war of Liberation and personally helped to subsidise it.
In 1811 he married his seventeen year old bride, Julia Thuiller, and in 1814 Landor, along with his wife, fled to Florence, Italy, after being sued for libel. Landor parted from his wife and four children in 1835 and returned to England where he became a good friend of Charles Dickens until 1858 when pending another libel case from a local woman he returned to Florence, residing with Elizabeth Barret and Robert Browning until his death in 1864.
With regards to his writing, in 1795 Landor published his first collection of poems simply entitled Poems. He then went on to write a number of prose and poetry collections, including: Gebir (1798), Simonidea (1806), Count Julian (1812), Idyllia Heroica (1820), Satire on Satirists (1836), Pentameron and Pentalogia (1837), High and Low Life in Italy (1837), Literary Hours (1837), Andrea of Hungary (1839), Italics (1848), Last Fruit Off an Old Tree (1853), Antony and Octavius (1856) and Heroic Idylls (1863). However, it is for Imaginary Conversations of Literary Men and Statesmen (1824-1829) and Imaginary Conversations of Greeks and Romans (1853) that he is most remembered.
Landor died in 1864.
Popular poetry
Mother, I cannot mind my wheel;
My fingers ache, my lips are dry:
8 lines, 5 comments
MILD is the parting year, and sweet
The odour of the falling spray;
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Death stands above me, whispering low
I know not what into my ear:
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I strove with none, for none was worth my strife;
Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art;
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I strove with none; for none was worth my strife,
Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art;
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Tanagra! think not I forget
Thy beautifully-storey’d streets;
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HERE, ever since you went abroad,
If there be change no change I see:
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THERE is a mountain and a wood between us,
Where the lone shepherd and late bird have seen us
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‘Do you remember me? or are you proud?’
Lightly advancing thro’ her star-trimm’d crowd,
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