#EnglishWriters #Romantic
As the Liberty lads o’er the sea Bought their freedom, and cheaply,… So we, boys, we Will die fighting, or live free, And down with all kings but King…
The kiss, dear maid! thy lip has l… Shall never part from mine, Till happier hours restore the gif… Untainted back to thine. Thy parting glance, which fondly b…
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…
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…
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…
'Tis done——and shivering in the ga… The bark unfurls her snowy sail; And whistling o’er the bending mas… Loud sings on high the fresh’ning… And I must from this land be gone…
Our life is twofold; Sleep hath i… A boundary between the things misn… Death and existence: Sleep hath i… And a wide realm of wild reality, And dreams in their development ha…
Think’st thou I saw thy beauteous… Suffus’d in tears, implore to stay… And heard unmov’d thy plenteous si… Which said far more than words can… Though keen the grief thy tears ex…
Sun of the sleepless! melancholy s… Whose tearful beam glows tremulous… That show’st the darkness thou can… How like art thou to joy remember’… So gleams the past, the light of o…
This faint resemblance of thy char… (Though strong as mortal art could… My constant heart of fear disarms, Revives my hopes, and bids me live… Here, I can trace the locks of go…
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?
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’…
My soul is dark - Oh! quickly str… The harp I yet can brook to hear; And let thy gentle fingers fling Its melting murmurs o’er mine ear. If in this heart a hope be dear,
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…
'Tis done—but yesterday a King! And armed with Kings to strive— And now thou art a nameless thing: So abject—yet alive! Is this the man of thousand throne…