#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
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!
Rousseau—Voltaire—our Gibbon—De… Leman! these names are worthy of t… Thy shore of names like these! wer… Their memory thy remembrance would… To them thy banks were lovely as t…
I had a dream, which was not all a… The bright sun was extinguish’d, a… Did wander darkling in the eternal… Rayless, and pathless, and the icy… Swung blind and blackening in the…
Thy cheek is pale with thought, bu… And yet so lovely, that if Mirth… Its rose of whiteness with the bri… My heart would wish away that rude… And dazzle not thy deep-blue eyes—…
In this book a traveller had writt… ‘Fair Albion, smiling, sees her s… To trace the birth and nursery of… Noble his object, glorious is his… He comes to Athens, and he writes…
I Read the 'Christabel’; Very well: I read the Missionary’; Pretty - very I tried at Ilderim ;
Famed for contemptuous breach of s… By headless Charles see heartless… Between them stands another sceptr… It moves, it reigns—in all but nam… Charles to his people, Henry to h…
CLXXVIII. There is a pleasure in the pathles… There is a rapture on the lonely s… There is society where none intrud… By the deep Sea, and music in its…
Start not’nor deem my spirit fle… In me behold the only skull From which, unlike a living head, Whatever flows is never dull. I lived, I loved, I quaffed like…
I wish to tune my quivering lyre To deed of fame and notes of fire; To echo, from its rising swell, How heroes fought and nations fell… When Atreus’ sons advanced to war…
Oh! mihi præteritos referat si J… Ye scenes of my childhood, whose l… Embitters the present, compar’d wi… Where science first dawn’d on the… And friendships were form’d, too r…
Ambition was my idol, which was br… Before the shrines of Sorrow and… And the two last have left me many… O’er which reflection may be made… Now, like Friar Bacon’s brazen he…
MONTGOMERY! true, the common… Of mortals lies in Lethe’s wave; Yet some shall never be forgot, Some shall exist beyond the grave. ‘Unknown the region of his birth,’
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge… A palace and a prison on each hand… I saw from out the wave her struct… As from the stroke of the enchante… A thousand years their cloudy wing…
Fill the goblet again! for I neve… Felt the glow which now gladdens m… Let us drink!—who would not?—since… In the goblet alone no deception i… I have tried in its turn all that…