#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
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,
MY faint spirit was sitting in th… Of thy looks, my love; It panted for thee like the hin… For the brooks, my love. Thy barb, whose hoofs outspeed the…
From the Greek of Plato. Thou wert the morning star among t… Ere thy fair light had fled;— Now, having died, thou art as Hes… New splendour to the dead.
A hater he came and sat by a ditch… And he took an old cracked lute; And he sang a song which was more… ‘Gainst a woman that was a brute.
“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…
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…
I weep for Adonais—he is dead! Oh, weep for Adonais! though our… Thaw not the frost which binds so… And thou, sad Hour, selected from… To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscu…
How swiftly through Heaven’s wide… Bright day’s resplendent colours f… How sweetly does the moonbeam’s gl… With silver tint St. Irvyne’s gla… II.
Art thou indeed forever gone, Forever, ever, lost to me? Must this poor bosom beat alone, Or beat at all, if not for thee? Ah! why was love to mortals given,
Yes! all is past—swift time has fl… Yet its swell pauses on my sickeni… How long will horror nerve this fr… I’m dead, and lingers yet my soul… Oh! powerful Fate, revoke thy dea…
A woodman whose rough heart was ou… (I think such hearts yet never cam… Hated to hear, under the stars or… One nightingale in an interfluous… Satiate the hungry dark with melod…
... And many there were hurt by that s… His name, they said, was Pleasure… And near him stood, glorious beyon… Four Ladies who possess all emper…
Hopes, that swell in youthful brea… Live not through the waste of time… Love’s rose a host of thorns inves… Cold, ungenial is the clime, Where its honours blow.
From the Greek of Plato. Kissing Helena, together With my kiss, my soul beside it Came to my lips, and there I kept… For the poor thing had wandered th…
'How beautiful this night! the bal… Which vernal zephyrs breathe in ev… Were discord to the speaking quiet… That wraps this moveless scene. H… Studded with stars unutterably bri…
