#EnglishWriters #Romantic
When Man, expell’d from Eden’s bo… A moment linger’d near the gate, Each scene recall’d the vanish’d h… And bade him curse his future fate… But, wandering on through distant…
Bob Southey! You’re a poet—Poet-… And representative of all the race… Although 'tis true that you turn’d… Last—yours has lately been a commo… And now, my Epic Renegade! what a…
'Tu semper amoris Sisd memor, etcari comitis ne absc… Friend of my youth! when young we… Like striplings mutually beloved, With friendship’s purest glow,
There be none of Beauty’s daughte… With a magic like thee; And like music on the waters Is thy sweet voice to me: When, as if its sound were causing
Thy cheek is pale with thought, bu… And yet so lovely, that if Mirth… Its rose of whiteness with the bri… My heart would wish away that rude… And dazzle not thy deep-blue eyes—…
Through thy battlements, Newstead… Thou, the hall of my Fathers, art… In thy once smiling garden, the he… Have choak’d up the rose, which la… Of the mail-cover’d Barons, who,…
Dear Becher, you tell me to mix w… I cannot deny such a precept is wi… But retirement accords with the to… I will not descend to a world I d… Did the senate or camp my exertion…
Oh! might I kiss those eyes of fi… A million scarce would quench desi… Still would I steep my lips in bl… And dwell an age on every kiss; Nor then my soul should sated be,
LIV But now I will begin my poem. 'Ti… Perhaps a little strange, if not q… That from the first of Cantos up… I’ve not begun what we have to go…
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,
O ye! who teach the ingenuous yout… Holland, France, England, German… I pray ye flog them upon all occas… It mends their morals, never mind… The best of mothers and of educati…
The town was taken—whether he migh… Himself or bastion, little matter’… His stubborn valour was no future… Ismail’s no more! The Crescent’s… Sunk, and the crimson Cross glar’…
Near this spot Are deposited the Remains Of one Who possessed Beauty Without Vanity,
When Thurlow this damn’d nonsense… (I hope I am not violent), Nor men nor gods knew what he mean… And since not even our Rogers’ pr… To common sense his thoughts could…
Young Oak! when I planted thee de… I hoped that thy days would be lon… That thy dark‑waving branches woul… And ivy thy trunk with its mantle… Such, such was my hope, when in in…