#EnglishWriters #Romantic
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…
Strahan, Tonson Lintot of the tim… Patron and publisher of rhymes, For thee the bard up Pindus climb… My Murray. To thee, with hope and terror dumb…
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…
Away with your fictions of flimsy… Those tissues of falsehood which… Give me the mild beam of the soul—… Or the rapture which dwells on the… Ye rhymers, whose bosoms with fant…
Nothing so difficult as a beginnin… In poesy, unless perhaps the end; For oftentimes when Pegasus seems… The race, he sprains a wing, and d… Like Lucifer when hurl’d from hea…
WARRIORS and chiefs! should th… Pierce me in leading the host of t… Heed not the corse, though a king’… Bury your steel in the bosoms of… Thou who art bearing my buckler an…
I now mean to be serious;—it is ti… Since laughter now-a-days is deem’… A jest at Vice by Virtue’s call’d… And critically held as deleterious… Besides, the sad’s a source of the…
Remember thee! remember thee! Till Lethe quench life’s burning… Remorse and shame shall cling to t… And haunt thee like a feverish dre… Remember thee! Aye, doubt it not.
There was a time, I need not name… Since it will ne’er forgotten be, When all our feelings were the sam… As still my soul hath been to thee… And from that hour when first thy…
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…
In this book a traveller had writt… ‘Fair Albion, smiling, sees her s… To trace the birth and nursery of… Noble his object, glorious is his… He comes to Athens, and he writes…
Good plays are scarce: So Moore writes farce. The poet’s fame grows brittle— We knew before That Little’s Moore,
Ah! Love was never yet without The pang, the agony, the doubt, Which rends my heart with ceaseles… While day and night roll darkling… Without one friend to hear my woe,
The spell is broke; the charm is f… Thus is it with life’s fitful feve… We madly smile when we should groa… Delirium is our best deceiver. Each lucid interval of thought
In this beloved marble view, Above the works and thoughts of ma… What Nature could, but would not,… And Beauty and Canova can! Beyond imagination’s power,
