#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
And that I walk thus proudly crow… Is that ’tis my distinction; if I… I shall not weep out of the vital… To-morrow dust, nor wear a dull de…
Young things themselves, tend on the youngling sheep, Have they the Bromian drink from the vine’s stream? What, ho! assistance, comrades, haste, assistance! Or boiled and seethed within...
Here I sit with my paper, my pen… First of this thing, and that thin… Then my thoughts come so pell-mell… That the sense or the subject I n… This word is wrong placed,—no rega…
Guido, I would that Lapo, thou, a… Led by some strong enchantment, mi… A magic ship, whose charmed sails… With winds at will where’er our th… So that no change, nor any evil ch…
Moonbeam, leave the shadowy vale, To bathe this burning brow. Moonbeam, why art thou so pale, As thou walkest o’er the dewy dale… Where humble wild-flowers grow?
Men of England, wherefore plough For the lords who lay ye low? Wherefore weave with toil and care The rich robes your tyrants wear? Wherefore feed and clothe and save
Fairest of the Destinies, Disarray thy dazzling eyes: Keener far thy lightnings are Than the winged [bolts] thou beare… And the smile thou wearest
BEST and brightest, come away! Fairer far than this fair Day, Which, like thee to those in sorro… Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow To the rough Year just awake
Earth, ocean, air, belovèd brother… If our great Mother has imbued my… With aught of natural piety to fee… Your love, and recompense the boon… If dewy morn, and odorous noon, an…
Monarch of Gods and Dæmons, and a… But One, who throng those bright… Which Thou and I alone of living… Behold with sleepless eyes! regard… Made multitudinous with thy slaves…
Offspring of Jove, Calliope, once… To the bright Sun, thy hymn of mu… Whom to the child of star-clad He… Euryphaessa, large-eyed nymph, bro… Euryphaessa, the famed sister fair
Ambition, power, and avarice, now… Death, fate, and ruin, on a bleedi… See! on yon heath what countless v… Hark! what loud shrieks ascend thr… Tell then the cause, 'tis sure the…
What men gain fairly—that they sho… And children may inherit idleness, From him who earns it’This is u… Private injustice may be general g… But he who gains by base and armed…
The waters are flashing, The white hail is dashing, The lightnings are glancing, The hoar-spray is dancing— Away!
Lift not the painted veil which th… Call Life: though unreal shapes b… And it but mimic all we would beli… With colours idly spread,-behind,… And Hope, twin Destinies; who eve…