#EnglishWriters #Romantic
When Bishop Berkeley said “there… And proved it—'twas no matter what… They say his system 'tis in vain t… Too subtle for the airiest human h… And yet who can believe it! I wou…
Oh, Castlereagh! thou art a patri… Cato died for his country, so dids… He perish’d rather than see Rome… Thou cutt’ st thy throat that Bri… So Castlereagh has cut his throat…
It is the hour when from the bough… The nightingale’s high note is hea… It is the hour when lovers’ vows Seem sweet in every whisper’d word… And gentle winds, and waters near,
When I roved a young Highlander o… And climb’d thy steep sumrnit, oh… To gaze on the torrent that thunde… Or the mist of the tempest that ga… Untutor’d by science, a stranger t…
The ‘Origin of Love!’—Ah why That cruel question ask of me, When thou may’st read in many an e… He starts to life on seeing thee? And should’st thou seek his end to…
It is the hour when from the bough… The nightingale’s high note is hea… It is the hour—when lover’s vows Seem sweet in every whisper’d word… And gentle winds and waters near,
Huzza! Hodgson, we are going, Our embargo’s off at last; Favourable breezes blowing Bend the canvass o’er the mast. From aloft the signal’s streaming,
From the last hill that looks on t… I beheld thee, oh Sion! when rend… 'Twas thy last sun went down, and… Flash’d back on the last glance I… I look’d for thy temple, I look’d…
Time! on whose arbitrary wing The varying hours must flag or fly… Whose tardy winter, fleeting sprin… But drag or drive us on to die—— Hail thou! who on my birth bestowe…
When I dream that you love me, yo… Extend not your anger to sleep; For in visions alone your affectio… I rise, and it leaves me to weep. Then, Morpheus! envelope my facul…
Once fairly set out on his party o… Taking towns at his liking, and cr… From Elba to Lyons and Paris he… Making balls for the ladies, and b…
Long years!—It tries the thrillin… And eagle-spirit of a child of So… Long years of outrage, calumny, an… Imputed madness, prison’d solitude… And the mind’s canker in its savag…
When, from the heart where Sorrow… Her dusky shadow mounts too high, And o’er the changing aspect flits… And clouds the brow, or fills the… Heed not that gloom, which soon sh…
The chain I gave was fair to view… The lute I added sweet in sound; The heart that offer’d both was tr… And ill deserved the fate it found… These gifts were charm’d by secret…
‘And Ireland, like a bastinadoed… kneeling to receive the paltry rid… Ere the daughter of Brunswick is… And her ashes still float to their… Lo! George the triumphant speeds…