#EnglishWriters #Romanticism #XIXCentury
If from great nature’s or our own… Of thought we could but snatch a c… Perhaps mankind might find the pat… But then 'twould spoil much good p… One system eats another up, and th…
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…
The Serfs are glad through Lara’s wide domain, [2] With tongues all loudness, and with eyes all mirth. And whence they know not, why they need not guess; Though sear’d by toil, and some...
There be none of Beauty’s daughte… With a magic like Thee; And like music on the waters Is thy sweet voice to me: When, as if its sound were causing
A PARAPHRASE FROM THE… Nisus, the guardian of the portal… Eager to gild his arms with hostil… Well skill’d in fight the quiverin… Or pour his arrow, through th’ emb…
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,
Father of Light! great God of He… Hear’st thou the accents of despai… Can guilt like man’s be e’er forgi… Can vice atone for crimes by praye… Father of Light, on thee I call!
I enter thy garden of roses, Beloved and fair Haidée, Each morning where Flora reposes, For surely I see her in thee. Oh, Lovely! thus low I implore th…
Bob Southey! You’re a poet—Poet-… And representative of all the race… Although 'tis true that you turn’d… Last—yours has lately been a commo… And now, my Epic Renegade! what a…
This Band, which bound thy yellow… Is mine, sweet girl! Thy pledge o… It claims my warmest, dearest care… Like relics left of saints above. Oh! I will wear it next my heart;
Absent or present, still to thee, My friend, what magic spells belon… As all can tell, who share, like m… In turn thy converse and thy song. But when the dreaded hour shall co…
There is a pleasure in the pathles… There is a rapture on the lonely s… There is society, where none intru… By the deep sea, and music in its… I love not man the less, but Natu…
The Son of Love and Lord of War… Him who bade England bow to Norma… And left the name of conqueror mor… To his unconquerable dynasty. Not fann’d alone by Victory’s fle…
Titan! to whose immortal eyes The sufferings of mortality, Seen in their sad reality, Were not as things that gods despi… What was thy pity’s recompense?
Kind Reader! take your choice to… Here HAROLD lies, but where’s h… If such you seek, try Westminster… Ten thousand just as fit for him a… Athens
