#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
'Here lieth One whose name was wr… But, ere the breath that could era… Death, in remorse for that fell sl… Death, the immortalizing winter, f… Athwart the stream,—and time’s pri…
Thus to be lost and thus to sink a… Perchance were death indeed!'Co… In thy dark eyes a power like ligh… Even though the sounds which were… Between thy lips, are laid to slee…
'What art thou, Presumptuous, who… The wreath to mighty poets only du… Even whilst like a forgotten moon… Touch not those leaves which for t… Who wander o’er the Paradise of f…
Arise, arise, arise! There is blood on the earth that d… Be your wounds like eyes To weep for the dead, the dead, th… What other grief were it just to p…
Emily, A ship is floating in the harbour… A wind is hovering o’er the mounta… There is a path on the sea’s azure… No keel has ever plough’d that pat…
DRAMATIS PERSONÃ Count Francesco Cenci. Giacomo, his Son. Bernardo, his Son. Cardinal Camillo.
A cat in distress, Nothing more, nor less; Good folks, I must faithfully tel… As I am a sinner, It waits for some dinner
If I walk in Autumn’s even While the dead leaves pass, If I look on Spring’s soft heav… Something is not there which was Winter’s wondrous frost and snow,
'Thus do the generations of the ea… Go to the grave and issue from the… Surviving still the imperishable c… That renovates the world; even as… Which the keen frost-wind of the w…
When May is painting with her col… The landscape sketched by April h…
Like the ghost of a dear friend de… Is Time long past. A tone which is now forever fled, A hope which is now forever past, A love so sweet it could not last,
(With what truth may I say— Roma! Roma! Roma! Non e piu come era prima!) My lost William, thou in whom Some bright spirit lived, and did
Tremble, Kings despised of man! Ye traitors to your Country, Tremble! Your parricidal plan At length shall meet its destiny..… We all are soldiers fit to fight,
Hopes, that swell in youthful brea… Live not through the waste of time… Love’s rose a host of thorns inves… Cold, ungenial is the clime, Where its honours blow.
Thy dewy looks sink in my breast; Thy gentle words stir poison there… Thou hast disturbed the only rest That was the portion of despair! Subdued to Duty’s hard control,
