#EnglishWriters #Romantic
There is a tear for all that die, A mourner o’er the humblest grave; But nations swell the funeral cry, And Triumph weeps above the brave… For them is Sorrow’s purest sigh
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.
AD LESBIAM Equal to Jove that youth must be— Greater than Jove he seems to me— Who, free from Jealousy’s alarms, Securely views thy matchless charm…
We do not curse thee, Waterloo! Though Freedom’s blood thy plain… There 'twas shed, but is not sunk Rising from each gory trunk, Like the water-spout from ocean,
Sweet girl! though only once we me… That meeting I shall ne’er forget… And though we ne’er may meet again… Remembrance will thy form retain. I would not say, ‘I love,’ but st…
THOUGH the day of my destiny’s… 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…
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…
Young Oak! when I planted thee de… I hoped that thy days would be lon… That thy dark‑waving branches woul… And ivy thy trunk with its mantle… Such, such was my hope, when in in…
Youth, Nature, and relenting Jove… To keep my Lamp in strongly strov… But Romanelli was so stout, He beat all three, and blew it out… Oct. 1810.
Sons of the Greeks, arise! The glorious hour’s gone forth, And, worthy of such ties, Display who gave us birth. CHORUS.
Good plays are scarce: So Moore writes farce. The poet’s fame grows brittle— We knew before That Little’s Moore,
Time! on whose arbitrary wing The varying hours must flag or fly… Whose tardy winter, fleeting sprin… But drag or drive us on to die—— Hail thou! who on my birth bestowe…
Oh! yes, I will own we were dear… The friendships of childhood, thou… The love which you felt was the lo… Nor less the affection I cherish’… But Friendship can vary her gentl…
Farewell! if ever fondest prayer For other’s weal avail’d on high, Mine will not all be lost in air, But waft thy name beyond the sky. Twere vain to speak, to weep, to s…
My hair is grey, but not with year… Nor grew it white In a single night, As men’s have grown from sudden fe… My limbs are bow’d, though not wit…
