#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
‘It is the voice of years that are… they roll before me with all their… Newstead! fast-falling, once-respl… Religion’s shrine! repentant HE… Of warriors, monks, and dames the…
When I hear that you express an a… Ne’er think, my beloved, that I d… For your lip would the soul of sus… And your eye beams a ray which can… Yet, still, this fond bosom regret…
Chill and mirk is the nightly blas… Where Pindus’ mountains rise, And angry clouds are pouring fast The vengeance of the skies. Our guides are gone, our hope is l…
Ah!—What should follow slips from… Whatever follows ne’ertheless may… As à -propos of hope or retrospect… As though the lurking thought had… All present life is but an interje…
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…
The following iiliberal imprompt… 'Our nation’s foes lament on Fox’… But bless the hour when PITT res… These feelings wide, let sense and… We give the palm where Justice po…
I want a hero: an uncommon want, When every year and month sends fo… Till, after cloying the gazettes w… The age discovers he is not the tr… Of such as these I should not car…
For Oxford and for Waldegrave You give much more than me you gav… Which is not fairly to behave, My Murray. Because if a live dog, 'tis said,
Though the day of my destiny’s ove… 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…
Which, in the Arabic language, is… THE Moorish King rides up and do… Through Granada’s royal town; From Elvira’s gate to those Of Bivarambla on he goes.
Thou Power! who hast ruled me thr… Young offspring of Fancy, 'tis ti… Then rise on the gale this the las… The coldest effusion which springs… This bosom, responsive to rapture…
Must thou go, my glorious Chief, Sever’d from thy faithful few? Who can tell thy warrior’s grief, Maddening o’er that long adieu? Woman’s love, and friendship’s zea…
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…
In thee I fondly hoped to clasp A friend whom death alone could se… Till envy, with malignant grasp, Detach’d thee from my breast for e… True, she has forced thee from my…
I would I were a careless child, Still dwelling in my Highland cav… Or roaming through the dusky wild, Or bounding o’er the dark blue wav… The cumbrous pomp of Saxon pride,
