#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
The braziers, it seems, are prepar… An address, and present it themsel… A superfluous pageant-for, by the… They’ll find where they’re going m…
'O’er the glad waters of the dark… Our thoughts as boundless, and our… Far as the breeze can bear, the bi… Survey our empire, and behold our… These are our realms, no limits to…
WHERE are those honours, Ida! o… When Probus fill’d your magisteri… As ancient Rome, fast falling to… Hail’d a barbarian in her Cæsar’s… So you, degenerate, share as hard…
Weep, daughter of a royal line, A Sire’s disgrace, a realm’s deca… Ah! happy if each tear of thine Could wash a father’s fault away! Weep—for thy tears are Virtue’s t…
The roses of Love glad the garden… Though nurtur’d 'mid weeds droppin… Till Time crops the leaves with u… Or prunes them for ever, in Love’… In vain, with endearments, we soot…
To the tune of ‘Why, how now, sau… Why, how now, saucy Tom? If you thus must ramble, I will publish some Remarks on Mister Campbell.
Oh! mihi præteritos referat si J… Ye scenes of my childhood, whose l… Embitters the present, compar’d wi… Where science first dawn’d on the… And friendships were form’d, too r…
No breath of air to break the wave That rolls below the Athenian’s g… That tomb which, gleaming o’er the… First greets the homeward-veering… High o’er the land he saved in vai…
Your pardon, my friend, if my rhym… Your pardon, a thousand times o’er… From friendship I strove your pan… But, I swear, I will do so no mor… Since your beautiful maid your fla…
We do not curse thee, Waterloo! Though Freedom’s blood thy plain… There 'twas shed, but is not sunk Rising from each gory trunk, Like the water-spout from ocean,
The King was on his throne, The Satraps throng’d the hall: A thousand bright lamps shone O’er that high festival. A thousand cups of gold,
Woman! experience might have told… That all must love thee who behold… Surely experience might have taugh… Thy firmest promises are nought: But, placed in all thy charms befo…
Oh! might I kiss those eyes of fi… A million scarce would quench desi… Still would I steep my lips in bl… And dwell an age on every kiss; Nor then my soul should sated be,
No specious splendour of this ston… Endears it to my memory ever; With lustre only once it shone, And blushes modest as the giver. Some, who can sneer at friendship’…
Maid of Athens, ere we part, Give, oh give me back my heart! Or, since that has left my breast, Keep it now, and take the rest! Hear my vow before I go,
