#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury #XVIIICentury
'Tis true, Idoloclastes Satyrane! (So call him, for so mingling blam… And smiles with anxious looks, his… Masking his birth-name, wont to ch… His wild-wood fancy and impetuous…
Tranquillity! thou better name Than all the family of Fame! Thou ne’er wilt leave my riper age To low intrigue, or factious rage; For oh! dear child of thoughtful…
'And hail the chapel! hail the pla… Where Tell directed the avenging… With well-strung arm, that first p… Then aimed the arrow at the tyrant… Splendor’s fondly fostered child!
Come hither, gently rowing, Come, bear me quickly o’er This stream so brightly flowing To yonder woodland shore. But vain were my endeavour
Where true Love burns Desire is… It is the reflex of our earthly fr… That takes its meaning from the no… And but translates the language of…
We pledged our hearts, my love and… I in my arms the maiden clasping; I could not tell the reason why, But, O, I trembled like an aspen! Her father’s love she bade me gain…
For shame, dear friend, renounce t… What would’st thou have a good gre… Place? titles? salary? a gilded ch… Or throne of corses which his swor… Greatness and goodness are not mea…
Sweet flower! that peeping from th… Unfoldest timidly, (for in strange… This dark, frieze-coated, hoarse,… Hath borrowed Zephyr’s voice, and… With blue voluptuous eye) alas poo…
Whom the untaught Shepherds call Pixies in their madrigal, Fancy’s children, here we dwell: Welcome, Ladies! to our cell. Here the wren of softest note
O thou wild fancy, check thy wing!… Those thin white flakes, those pur… Nor there with happy spirits speed… Bathed in rich amber-glowing flood… Nor in yon gleam, where slow desce…
Stop, Christian passer—by!—Stop,… And read with gentle breast. Bene… A poet lies, or that which once se… O, lift one thought in prayer for… That he who many a year with toil…
My pensive Sara! thy soft cheek r… Thus on mine arm, most soothing sw… To sit beside our Cot, our Cot o’… With white—flowered Jasmin, and t… (Meet emblems they of Innocence a…
[exerpt] Of late, in one of those most wear… When life seems emptied of all gen… A dready mood, which he who ne’er… May bless his happy lot, I sate a…
O peace, that on a lilied bank dos… To rest thine head beneath an oliv… I would that from the pinions of t… One quill withouten pain yplucked… For oh! I wish my Sara’s frowns t…
Schiller! that hour I would have… If thro’ the shudd’ring midnight… From the dark Dungeon of the Towe… That fearful voice, a famished Fa… That in no after moment aught less…
