#EnglishWriters #Romantic
High in the midst, surrounded by h… MAGNUS his ample front sublime… Placed on his chair of state, he s… While Sophs and Freshmen tremble… As all around sit wrapt in speechl…
They say that Hope is happiness; But genuine Love must prize the p… And Memory wakes the thoughts tha… They rose the first—they set the l… And all that Memory loves the mos…
I saw thee weep—the big bright tea… Came o’er that eye of blue; And then methought it did appear A violet dropping dew: I saw thee smile—the sapphire’s bl…
THOUGH the day of my destiny’s… And the star of my fate hath decli… Thy soft heart refused to discover The faults which so many could fin… Though thy soul with my grief was…
The antique Persians taught three… To draw the bow, to ride, and spea… This was the mode of Cyrus, best… A mode adopted since by modern you… Bows have they, generally with two…
Ah! heedless girl! why thus disclo… What ne’er was meant for other ear… Why thus destroy thine own repose And dig the source of future tears… Oh, thou wilt weep, imprudent maid…
‘Tis time the heart should be unmo… Since others it hath ceased to mov… Yet, though I cannot be beloved, Still let me love! My days are in the yellow leaf;
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…
Oh, Mariamne! now for thee The heart of which thou bled’st is… Revenge is lost in agony, And wild remorse to rage succeedin… Oh, Mariamne! where art thou?
I wish to tune my quivering lyre To deed of fame and notes of fire; To echo, from its rising swell, How heroes fought and nations fell… When Atreus’ sons advanced to war…
No specious splendour of this ston… Endears it to my memory ever; With lustre only once it shone, And blushes modest as the giver. Some, who can sneer at friendship’…
The spell is broke; the charm is f… Thus is it with life’s fitful feve… We madly smile when we should groa… Delirium is our best deceiver. Each lucid interval of thought
Titan! to whose immortal eyes The sufferings of mortality, Seen in their sad reality, Were not as things that gods despi… What was thy pity’s recompense?
In thee I fondly hoped to clasp A friend whom death alone could se… Till envy, with malignant grasp, Detach’d thee from my breast for e… True, she has forced thee from my…
Spot of my youth! whose hoary bran… Swept by the breeze that fans thy… Where now alone I muse, who oft h… With those I loved, thy soft and… With those who, scattered far, per…