#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
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…
From the forests and highlands We come, we come; From the river—girt islands, Where loud waves are dumb Listening my sweet pipings.
Tell me, thou Star, whose wings o… Speed thee in thy fiery flight, In what cavern of the night Will thy pinions close now? II.
The rude wind is singing The dirge of the music dead; The cold worms are clinging Where kisses were lately fed.
Swift as a spirit hastening to his… Of glory & of good, the Sun spran… Rejoicing in his splendour, & the… Of darkness fell from the awakened… The smokeless altars of the mounta…
Mighty eagle! thou that soarest O’er the misty mountain forest, And amid the light of morning Like a cloud of glory hiest, And when night descends defiest
Her voice did quiver as we parted, Yet knew I not that heart was bro… From which it came, and I departe… Heeding not the words then spoken. Misery—O Misery,
THE world is dreary, And I’m weary Of wandering on without thee, Mar… A joy was erewhile In thy voice and thy smile,
One word is too often profaned For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely disdained For thee to disdain it; One hope is too like despair
Oh! did you observe the Black Can… And did you observe his frown? He goeth to say the midnight mass, In holy St. Edmond’s town. He goeth to sing the burial chaunt…
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…
‘Do you not hear the Aziola cry? Methinks she must be nigh,’ Said Mary, as we sate In dusk, ere stars were lit, or ca… And I, who thought
Where art thou, beloved To-morrow… When young and old, and strong and… Rich and poor, through joy and sor… Thy sweet smiles we ever seek,— In thy place—ah! well-a-day!
When soft winds and sunny skies With the green earth harmonize, And the young and dewy dawn, Bold as an unhunted fawn, Up the windless heaven is gone,—
I weep for Adonais—he is dead! Oh, weep for Adonais! though our… Thaw not the frost which binds so… And thou, sad Hour, selected from… To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscu…
