#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
The chain I gave was fair to view… The lute I added sweet in sound; The heart that offer’d both was tr… And ill deserved the fate it found… These gifts were charm’d by secret…
There was a sound of revelry by ni… And Belgium’s capital had gathere… Her beauty and her chivalry, and b… The lamps shone o’er fair women an… A thousand hearts beat happily; an…
When some proud son of man returns… Unknown to glory, but upheld by bi… The sculptor’s art exhausts the po… And storied urns record who rest b… When all is done, upon the tomb is…
Ambition was my idol, which was br… Before the shrines of Sorrow and… And the two last have left me many… O’er which reflection may be made… Now, like Friar Bacon’s brazen he…
Were my bosom as false as thou dee… I need not have wander’d from far… It was but abjuring my creed to ef… The curse which, thou say’st, is t… If the bad never triumph, then Go…
Saint Peter sat by the celestial… His keys were rusty, and the lock… So little trouble had been given o… Not that the place by any means wa… But since the Gallic era 'eight-e…
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,
Whene’er I view those lips of thi… Their hue invites my fervent kiss; Yet, I forego that bliss divine, Alas! it were—-unhallow’d bliss. Whene’er I dream of that pure bre…
‘Tis time the heart should be unmo… Since others it hath ceased to mov… Yet, though I cannot be beloved, Still let me love! My days are in the yellow leaf;
Francisca walks in the shadow of n… But it is not to gaze on the heave… But if she sits in her garden bowe… 'Tis not for the sake of its blowi… She listens– but not for the night…
When the last sunshine of expiring… In summer’s twilight weeps itself… Who hath not felt the softness of… Sink on the heart, as dew along th… With a pure feeling which absorbs…
Dear Becher, you tell me to mix w… I cannot deny such a precept is wi… But retirement accords with the to… I will not descend to a world I d… Did the senate or camp my exertion…
It is the hour when from the bough… The nightingale’s high note is hea… It is the hour—when lover’s vows Seem sweet in every whisper’d word… And gentle winds and waters near,
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,
I speak not, I trace not, I breat… There is grief in the sound, there… But the tear that now burns on my… The deep thoughts that dwell in th… Too brief for our passion, too lon…
