#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
The stars may dissolve, and the fo… May sink into ne’er ending chaos a… Our mansions must fall, and earth… But thy courage O Erin! may never… See! the wide wasting ruin extends…
Vessels of heavenly medicine! may… Auspicious waft your dark green fo… Safe may ye stem the wide surround… Of the wild whirlwinds and the rag… And oh! if Liberty e’er deigned t…
Death is here and death is there, Death is busy everywhere, All around, within, beneath, Above is death—and we are death. II.
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
That time is dead for ever, child! Drowned, frozen, dead for ever! We look on the past And stare aghast At the spectres wailing, pale and…
PEOPLE of England, ye who toil… Who reap the harvests which are no… Who weave the clothes which your o… And for your own take the inclemen… Who build warm houses . . .
A pale Dream came to a Lady fair, And said, A boon, a boon, I pray! I know the secrets of the air, And things are lost in the glare o… Which I can make the sleeping see…
Away! the moor is dark beneath the… Rapid clouds have drank the last p… Away! the gathering winds will cal… And profoundest midnight shroud th… Pause not! The time is past! Ever…
Spirit ‘I was an infant when my mother we… To see an atheist burned. She too… The dark-robed priests were met ar… The multitude was gazing silently;
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…
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,
BY MICHING MALLECHO, Esq. Is it a party in a parlour, Crammed just as they on earth were… Some sipping punch-some sipping te… But, as you by their faces see,
The serpent is shut out from Para… The wounded deer must seek the her… In which its heart-cure lies: The widowed dove must cease to hau… Like that from which its mate with…
O World! O life! O time! On whose last steps I climb, Trembling at that where I had sto… When will return the glory of your… No more—oh, never more!
Thou wert not, Cassius, and thou… Last of the Romans, though thy me… From Brutus his own glory—and on… Rests the full splendour of his sa… Nor he who dared make the foul tyr…
