#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
Tell me, thou Star, whose wings o… Speed thee in thy fiery flight, In what cavern of the night Will thy pinions close now? II.
And the cloven waters like a chasm… Stood, and received him in its mig… And led him through the deep’s u… He went in wonder through the path… Of his great Mother and her humid…
It lieth, gazing on the midnight s… Upon the cloudy mountain-peak supi… Below, far lands are seen tremblin… Its horror and its beauty are divi… Upon its lips and eyelids seems to…
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 Moschus. Ye Dorian woods and waves, lament… Augment your tide, O streams, wit… For the beloved Bion is no more. Let every tender herb and plant an…
How sweet it is to sit and read th… Of mighty poets and to hear the wh… Sweet music, which when the attent… Fills the dim pause—
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,
A pale Dream came to a Lady fair, And said, A boon, a boon, I pray! I know the secrets of the air, And things are lost in the glare o… Which I can make the sleeping see…
The fountains mingle with the rive… And the rivers with the ocean, The winds of heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single;
The stars may dissolve, and the fo… May sink into ne’er ending chaos a… Our mansions must fall, and earth… But thy courage O Erin! may never… See! the wide wasting ruin extends…
‘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
Nor happiness, nor majesty, nor fa… Nor peace, nor strength, nor skill… Shepherd those herds whom tyranny… Verse echoes not one beating of th… History is but the shadow of their…
The viewless and invisible Conseq… Watches thy goings-out, and coming… And... hovers o’er thy guilty slee… Unveiling every new-born deed, and… More ghastly than those deeds—
Thy dewy looks sink in my breast; Thy gentle words stir poison there… Thou hast disturbed the only rest That was the portion of despair! Subdued to Duty’s hard control,
Listen, listen, Mary mine, To the whisper of the Apennine, It bursts on the roof like the thu… Or like the sea on a northern shor… Heard in its raging ebb and flow
