#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
I stood upon a heaven-cleaving tur… Which overlooked a wide Metropoli… And in the temple of my heart my… Lay prostrate, and with parted lip… The dust of Desolations [altar] h…
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
Dares the lama, most fleet of the… The lion to rouse from his skull-c… When the tiger approaches can the… Repose trust in his footsteps of a… No! Abandoned he sinks in a tranc…
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
Is it the Eternal Triune, is it… Who dares arrest the wheels of des… And plunge me in the lowest Hell… Will not the lightning’s blast des… Will not steel drink the blood-lif…
Best and brightest, come away! Fairer far than this fair Day, Which, like thee to those in sorro… Comes to bid a sweet good—morrow To the rough Year just awake
Fairest of the Destinies, Disarray thy dazzling eyes: Keener far thy lightnings are Than the winged [bolts] thou beare… And the smile thou wearest
The season was the childhood of sw… Whose sunny hours from morning unt… Went creeping through the day with… Each with its load of pleasure; sl… Like the long years of blest Eter…
Away! the moor is dark beneath the… Rapid clouds have drank the last p… Away! the gathering winds will cal… And profoundest midnight shroud th… Pause not! The time is past! Ever…
Fierce roars the midnight storm O’er the wild mountain, Dark clouds the night deform, Swift rolls the fountain— See! o’er yon rocky height,
Sweet star, which gleaming o’er th… Through fleecy clouds of silvery r… Spanglet of light on evening’s sha… Which shrouds the day-beam from th… Lighting the hour of sacred love;…
Oh! there are spirits of the air, And genii of the evening breeze, And gentle ghosts, with eyes as fa… As star-beams among twilight trees… Such lovely ministers to meet
center DRAMATIS PERSONÆ Count Francesco Cenci. Giacomo, his Son. Bernardo, his Son.
Emily, A ship is floating in the harbour… A wind is hovering o’er the mounta… There is a path on the sea’s azure… No keel has ever plough’d that pat…
