#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge… A palace and a prison on each hand… I saw from out the wave her struct… As from the stroke of the enchante… A thousand years their cloudy wing…
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…
My hair is grey, but not with year… Nor grew it white In a single night, As men’s have grown from sudden fe… My limbs are bow’d, though not wit…
My dear Mr. Murray, You’re in a damn 'd hurry, To set up this ultimate Canto; But (if they don’t rob us) You’ll see Mr. Hobhouse
Sermons he read, and lectures he e… And homilies, and lives of all the… To Jerome and to Chrysostom inure… He did not take such studies for r… But how faith is acquired, and the…
Thou whose spell can raise the dea… Bid the prophet’s form appear. ‘Samuel, raise thy buried head! King, behold the phantom seer!’ Earth yawn’d; he stood the centre…
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,
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…
ETERNAL SPIRIT of the chain… Brightest in dungeons, Liberty, t… For there thy habitation is the he… The heart which love of Thee alon… And when thy sons to fetters are c…
A PARAPHRASE FROM THE… Nisus, the guardian of the portal… Eager to gild his arms with hostil… Well skill’d in fight the quiverin… Or pour his arrow, through th’ emb…
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… II.
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
When the vain triumph of the imper… Whom servile Rome obey’d, and yet… Gave to the vulgar gaze each glori… That left a likeness of the brave… What most admired each scrutinisin…
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…
Farewell! if ever fondest prayer For other’s weal avail’d on high, Mine will not all be lost in air, But waft thy name beyond the sky. Twere vain to speak, to weep, to s…
