#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
Oh you, who in all names can tickl… Anacreon, Tom Little, Tom Moore,… For hang me if I know of which yo… Your Quarto two-pounds, or your T… But now to my letter-to yours 'tis…
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…
This votive pledge of fond esteem, Perhaps, dear girl! for me thou’lt… It sings of Love’s enchanting dre… A theme we never can despise. Who blames it but the envious fool…
So, we’ll go no more a-roving So late into the night, Though the heart be still as lovin… And the moon be still as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath,
The wild gazelle on Judah’s hills… Exulting yet may bound, And drink from all the living rill… That gush on holy ground: Its airy step and glorious eye
Let Folly smile, to view the name… Of thee and me in friendship twine… Yet Virtue will have greater clai… To love, than rank with vice combi… And though unequal is thy fate,
Fame, wisdom, love, and power were… And health and youth possess’d me; My goblets blush’d from every vine… And lovely forms caress’d me; I sunn’d my heart in beauty’s eyes…
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’…
To Ianthe: Not in those climes where I have… Though Beauty long hath there bee… Not in those visions to the heart… Forms which it sighs but to have o…
Posterity will ne’er survey A nobler grave than this: Here lie the bones of Castlereagh… Stop, traveler—
‘Hic est, quem legis, ille, quern… He unto whom thou art so partial, Oh, reader is the well-known Mart… The Epigrammatist: while living, Give him the fame thou wouldst be…
‘Sulpicia ad Cerinthum.’—Lib. iv. Cruel Cerinthus! does the fell di… Which racks my breast your fickle… Alas! I wish’d but to o’ercome th… That I might live for love and yo…
MONTGOMERY! true, the common… Of mortals lies in Lethe’s wave; Yet some shall never be forgot, Some shall exist beyond the grave. ‘Unknown the region of his birth,’
Could Love for ever Run like a river, And Time’s endeavour Be tried in vain No other pleasure
How pleasant were the songs of To… When Summer’s Sun went down the c… Come, let us to the islet’s softes… And hear the warbling birds I the… The wood-dove from the forest dept…