#EnglishWriters #Romantic
Saint Peter sat by the celestial… His keys were rusty, and the lock… So little trouble had been given o… Not that the place by any means wa… But since the Gallic era 'eight-e…
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…
If, in the month of dark December… Leander, who was nightly wont (What maid will not the tale remem… To cross thy stream, broad Helles… If, when the wintry tempest roar’d…
Away, ye gay landscapes, ye garden… In you let the minions of luxury r… Restore me to the rocks, where the… Though still they are sacred to fr… Yet, Caledonia, beloved are thy m…
Why, Pigot, complain of this dams… Why thus in despair do you fret? For months you may try, yet, belie… Will never obtain a coquette. Would you teach her to love? for a…
When the moon is on the wave, And the glow-worm in the grass, And the meteor on the grave, And the wisp on the morass; When the falling stars are shootin…
But first, on earth as vampire sen… Thy corse shall from its tomb be r… Then ghastly haunt thy native plac… And suck the blood of all thy race… There from thy daughter, sister, w…
And thou wert sad—yet I was not w… And thou wert sick, and yet I was… Methought that joy and health alon… Where I was not—and pain and sorr… And is it thus?—it is as I foreto…
The Serfs are glad through Lara’s… And slavery half forgets her feuda… He, their unhoped, but unforgotten… The long self-exiled chieftain is… There be bright faces in the busy…
Ye scenes of my childhood, whose l… Embitters the present, compar’d wi… Where science first dawn’d on the… And friendships were form’d, too r… Where fancy, yet, joys to retrace…
When some proud son of man returns… Unknown to glory, but upheld by bi… The sculptor’s art exhausts the po… And storied urns record who rest b… When all is done, upon the tomb is…
We do not curse thee, Waterloo! Though Freedom’s blood thy plain… There 'twas shed, but is not sunk Rising from each gory trunk, Like the water-spout from ocean,
THE isles of Greece! the isles o… Where burning Sappho loved and su… Where grew the arts of war and pea… Where Delos rose, and Phoebus spr… Eternal summer gilds them yet,
Father of Light! great God of He… Hear’st thou the accents of despai… Can guilt like man’s be e’er forgi… Can vice atone for crimes by praye… Father of Light, on thee I call!
A spirit passed before me: I behe… The face of immortality unveiled— Deep sleep came down on every eye… And there it stood,—all formless—b… Along my bones the creeping flesh…