#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
Stern, stern is the voice of fate’… When accents of horror it breathes… Or compels us for aye bid adieu to… Where exists that loved friend to… 'Tis sterner than death o’er the s…
Serene in his unconquerable might Endued[,] the Almighty King, his… Encompassed unapproachably with po… And darkness and deep solitude an… Stood like a black cloud on some a…
THE world is dreary, And I’m weary Of wandering on without thee, Mar… A joy was erewhile In thy voice and thy smile,
I bring fresh showers for the thir… From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves… In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews…
How swiftly through Heaven’s wide… Bright day’s resplendent colours f… How sweetly does the moonbeam’s gl… With silver tint St. Irvyne’s gla… II.
Now the last day of many days, All beautiful and bright as thou, The loveliest and the last, is dea… Rise, Memory, and write its prais… Up,—to thy wonted work! come, trac…
Oh! take the pure gem to where sou… Waft repose to some bosom as faith… In which the warm current of love… As it rises unmingled with selfish… Which, untainted by pride, unpollu…
And the cloven waters like a chasm… Stood, and received him in its mig… And led him through the deep’s u… He went in wonder through the path… Of his great Mother and her humid…
An old, mad, blind, despised, and… Princes, the dregs of their dull r… Through public scorn,—mud from a m… Rulers who neither see nor feel no… But leechlike to their fainting co…
Flourishing vine, whose kindling c… Beneath the autumnal sun, none tas… For thou dost shroud a ruin, and b… The rotting bones of dead antiquit…
'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…
center DRAMATIS PERSONÆ Count Francesco Cenci. Giacomo, his Son. Bernardo, his Son.
From the Greek of Plato. Kissing Helena, together With my kiss, my soul beside it Came to my lips, and there I kept… For the poor thing had wandered th…
Is it the Eternal Triune, is it… Who dares arrest the wheels of des… And plunge me in the lowest Hell… Will not the lightning’s blast des… Will not steel drink the blood-lif…
Art thou indeed forever gone, Forever, ever, lost to me? Must this poor bosom beat alone, Or beat at all, if not for thee? Ah! why was love to mortals given,
