#EnglishWriters #Romanticism #XIXCentury
His classic studies made a little… Because of filthy loves of gods an… Who in the earlier ages raised a b… But never put on pantaloons or bod… His reverend tutors had at times a…
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…
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…
There is a mystic thread of life So dearly wreath’d with mine alone… That Destiny’s relentless knife At once must sever both, or none. There is a Form on which these ey…
Strahan, Tonson, Lintot of the ti… Patron and publisher of rhymes, For thee the bard up Pindus climb… My Murray. To thee, with hope and terror dumb…
I Read the 'Christabel’; Very well: I read the Missionary’; Pretty - very I tried at Ilderim ;
If, for silver or for gold, You could melt ten thousand pimple… Into half a dozen dimples, Then your face we might behold, Looking, doubtless, much more snug…
Think’st thou I saw thy beauteous… Suffus’d in tears, implore to stay… And heard unmov’d thy plenteous si… Which said far more than words can… Though keen the grief thy tears ex…
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…
Let Folly smile, to view the name… Of thee and me in friendship twine… Yet Virtue will have greater clai… To love, than rank with vice combi… And though unequal is thy fate,
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
Marion! why that pensive brow? What disgust to life hast thou? Change that discontented air; Frowns become not one so fair. 'Tis not love disturbs thy rest,
The Devil return’d to hell by two… And he stay’d at home till five; When he dined on some homicides do… And a rebel or so in an Irish ste… And sausages made of a self-slain…
To the tune of ‘Why, how now, sau… Why, how now, saucy Tom? If you thus must ramble, I will publish some Remarks on Mister Campbell.
How sweetly shines through azure s… The lamp of heaven on Lora’s shor… Where Alva’s hoary turrets rise, And hear the din of arms no more! But often has yon rolling moon
