#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
I hated thee, fallen tyrant! I di… To think that a most unambitious s… Like thou, shouldst dance and reve… Of Liberty. Thou mightst have bui… Where it had stood even now: thou…
Rome has fallen, ye see it lying Heaped in undistinguished ruin: Nature is alone undying.
And heard the autumnal leaves like light footfalls I felt, but heard not:—through white columns glowed There streamed a sunbright vapour, like the standard Louder and louder, gathering ...
One word is too often profaned For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely disdained For thee to disdain it; One hope is too like despair
And that I walk thus proudly crow… Is that ’tis my distinction; if I… I shall not weep out of the vital… To-morrow dust, nor wear a dull de…
I sing the glorious Power with az… Athenian Pallas! tameless, chaste… Tritogenia, town-preserving Maid, Revered and mighty; from his awful… Whom Jove brought forth, in warli…
AWAY! the moor is dark beneath t… Rapid clouds have drunk the las… Away! the gathering winds will cal… And profoundest midnight shroud… Pause not! the time is past! Ever…
'What art thou, Presumptuous, who… The wreath to mighty poets only du… Even whilst like a forgotten moon… Touch not those leaves which for t… Who wander o’er the Paradise of f…
“Throughout these infinite orbs of… Of which yon earth is one, is wide… A Spirit of activity and life, That knows no term, cessation, or… That fades not when the lamp of ea…
Dear home, thou scene of earliest… The least of which wronged Memory… Bitterer than all thine unremember…
‘Do you not hear the Aziola cry? Methinks she must be nigh,’ Said Mary, as we sate In dusk, ere stars were lit, or ca… And I, who thought
Rarely, rarely, comest thou, Spirit of Delight! Wherefore hast thou left me now Many a day and night? Many a weary night and day
The odour from the flower is gone Which like thy kisses breathed on… The colour from the flower is flow… Which glowed of thee and only thee… II.
To thirst and find no fill—to wail… With short unsteady steps—to pause… To feel the blood run through the… Where busy thought and blind sensa… To nurse the image of unfelt cares…
Thy little footsteps on the sands Of a remote and lonely shore; The twinkling of thine infant hand… Where now the worm will feed no mo… Thy mingled look of love and glee
