#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
With death doom’d to grapple, Beneath this cold slab, he Who lied in the Chapel Now lies in the Abbey.
Great Jove, to whose almighty thr… Both gods and mortals homage pay, Ne’er may my soul thy power disown… Thy dread behests ne’er disobey. Oft shall the sacred victim fall
And thou art dead, as young and fa… As aught of mortal birth; And form so soft, and charms so ra… Too soon return’d to Earth! Though Earth receiv’d them in her…
Posterity will ne’er survey A nobler grave than this: Here lie the bones of Castlereagh… Stop, traveler—
To sit on rocks, to muse o’er floo… To slowly trace the forest’s shady… Where things that own not man’s do… And mortal foot hath ne’er or rare… To climb the trackless mountain al…
Through thy battlements, Newstead… Thou, the hall of my Fathers, art… In thy once smiling garden, the he… Have choak’d up the rose, which la… Of the mail-cover’d Barons, who,…
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…
My boat is on the shore, And my bark is on the sea; But before I go, Tom Moore, Here’s a double health to thee! Here’s a sigh to those who love me…
Through cloudless skies, in silver… Full beams the moon on Actium’s c… And on these waves for Egypt’s qu… The ancient world was won and lost… And now upon the scene I look,
THOUGH the day of my destiny’s… And the star of my fate hath decli… Thy soft heart refused to discover The faults which so many could fin… Though thy soul with my grief was…
Hail, Muse! et cetera.—We left J… Pillow’d upon a fair and happy bre… And watch’d by eyes that never yet… And loved by a young heart, too de… To feel the poison through her spi…
When I dream that you love me, yo… Extend not your anger to sleep; For in visions alone your affectio… I rise, and it leaves me to weep. Then, Morpheus! envelope my facul…
Thy cheek is pale with thought, bu… And yet so lovely, that if Mirth… Its rose of whiteness with the bri… My heart would wish away that rude… And dazzle not thy deep—blue eyes—…
This Band, which bound thy yellow… Is mine, sweet girl! Thy pledge o… It claims my warmest, dearest care… Like relics left of saints above. Oh! I will wear it next my heart;
When coldness wraps this suffering… Ah! whither strays the immortal mi… It cannot die, it cannot stay, But leaves its darken’d dust behin… Then, unembodied, doth it trace
