#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
In digging up your bones, Tom Pai… Will. Cobbett has done well: You visit him on earth again, He’ll visit you in hell.
And wilt thou weep when I am low? Sweet lady! speak those words agai… Yet if they grieve thee, say not s… I would not give that bosom pain. My heart is sad, my hopes are gone…
The harp the monarch minstrel swep… The King of men, the loved of Hea… Which Music hallow’d while she we… O’er tones her heart of hearts had… Redoubled be her tears, its chords…
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
When I roved a young Highlander o… And climb’d thy steep sumrnit, oh… To gaze on the torrent that thunde… Or the mist of the tempest that ga… Untutor’d by science, a stranger t…
When, to their airy hall, my fathe… Shall call my spirit, joyful in th… When, poised upon the gale, my for… Or, dark in mist, descend the moun… Oh! may my shade behold no sculptu…
To be the father of the fatherless… To stretch the hand from the thron… His offspring, who expired in othe… To make thy sire’s sway by a kingd… This is to be a monarch, and repre…
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…
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…
O ye! who teach the ingenuous yout… Holland, France, England, German… I pray ye flog them upon all occas… It mends their morals, never mind… The best of mothers and of educati…
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,
Doubtless, sweet girl! the hissing… Wafting destruction o’er thy charm… And hurtling o’er thy lovely head, Has fill’d that breast with fond a… Surely some envious demon’s force,
The world is full of orphans: firs… Who are so in the strict sense of… (But many a lonely tree the loftie… Than others crowded in the forest’… The next are such as are not doome…
‘Hic est, quem legis, ille, quern… He unto whom thou art so partial, Oh, reader is the well-known Mart… The Epigrammatist: while living, Give him the fame thou wouldst be…
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…
