#EnglishWriters
THE world is dreary, And I’m weary Of wandering on without thee, Mar… A joy was erewhile In thy voice and thy smile,
O universal Mother, who dost keep From everlasting thy foundations d… Eldest of things, Great Earth, I… All shapes that have their dwellin… All things that fly, or on the gro…
We are as clouds that veil the mid… How restlessly they speed and glea… Streaking the darkness radiantly!… Night closes round, and they are l… Or like forgotten lyres whose diss…
They die—the dead return not—Mise… Sits near an open grave and calls… A Youth with hoary hair and hagga… They are the names of kindred, fri… Which he so feebly calls—they all…
And said I that all hope was fled… That sorrow and despair were mine, That each enthusiast wish was dead… Had sank beneath pale Misery’s sh… Seest thou the sunbeam’s yellow gl…
The death-bell beats!— The mountain repeats The echoing sound of the knell; And the dark Monk now Wraps the cowl round his brow,
Fierce roars the midnight storm O’er the wild mountain, Dark clouds the night deform, Swift rolls the fountain— See! o’er yon rocky height,
Muse, sing the deeds of golden Ap… Who wakens with her smile the lull… Of sweet desire, taming the eterna… Of Heaven, and men, and all the l… That fleet along the air, or whom…
DRAMATIS PERSONÃ Count Francesco Cenci. Giacomo, his Son. Bernardo, his Son. Cardinal Camillo.
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…
I am as a spirit who has dwelt Within his heart of hearts, and I… His feelings, and have thought his… The inmost converse of his soul, t… Unheard but in the silence of his…
Is it that in some brighter sphere We part from friends we meet with… Or do we see the Future pass Over the Present’s dusky glass? Or what is that that makes us seem
To me this world’s a dreary blank, All hopes in life are gone and fle… My high strung energies are sank, And all my blissful hopes lie dead… The world once smiling to my view,
Rome has fallen, ye see it lying Heaped in undistinguished ruin: Nature is alone undying.
Death! where is thy victory? To triumph whilst I die, To triumph whilst thine ebon wing Enfolds my shuddering soul? O Death! where is thy sting?
