#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
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…
Adieu, ye joys of La Valette! Adieu, sirocco, sun, and sweat! Adieu, thou palace rarely enter’d! Adieu, ye mansions where I’ve ven… Adieu, ye cursed streets of stairs…
Here’s a happy new year! but with… I beg you’ll permit me to say Wish me many returns of the season… But as few as you please of the dy… January 2, 1820.
The Serfs are glad through Lara’s… And slavery half forgets her feuda… He, their unhoped, but unforgotten… The long self-exiled chieftain is… There be bright faces in the busy…
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—…
Parent of golden dreams, Romance! Auspicious Queen of childish joys… Who lead’st along, in airy dance, Thy votive train of girls and boys… At length, in spells no longer bou…
‘There is a tide in the affairs of… Which,—taken at the flood,’—you kn… And most of us have found it now a… At least we think so, though but f… The moment, till too late to come…
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…
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…
'I had rather be a kitten, and cry… Than one of these same metre balla… ‘Such shameless bards we have; and… There are as mad, abandon’d critic… Still must I hear?—shall hoarse F…
He who sublime in epic numbers rol… And he who struck the softer lyre… By Death’s unequal hand alike con… Fit comrades in Elysian regions m…
When Time, or soon or late, shall… The dreamless sleep that lulls the… Oblivion! may thy languid wing Wave gently o’er my dying bed! No band of friends or heirs be the…
Thine eyes’ blue tenderness, thy l… And the wan lustre of thy features… From contemplation-where serenely… Seems Sorrow’s softness charm’d f… Have thrown such speaking sadness…
When Man, expell’d from Eden’s bo… A moment linger’d near the gate, Each scene recall’d the vanish’d h… And bade him curse his future fate… But, wandering on through distant…
Oh, Wellington! (or 'Villainton’—… Sounds the heroic syllables both w… France could not even conquer your… But punn’d it down to this facetio… Beating or beaten she will laugh t…
