#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
Weep, daughter of a royal line, A Sire’s disgrace, a realm’s deca… Ah! happy if each tear of thine Could wash a father’s fault away! Weep—for thy tears are Virtue’s t…
Start not’nor deem my spirit fle… In me behold the only skull From which, unlike a living head, Whatever flows is never dull. I lived, I loved, I quaffed like…
The world is a bundle of hay, Mankind are the asses who pull; Each tugs it a different way, And the greatest of all is John B…
The harp the monarch minstrel swep… The King of men, the loved of Hea… Which Music hallow’d while she we… O’er tones her heart of hearts had… Redoubled be her tears, its chords…
Oh when shall the grave hide for e… Oh when shall my soul wing her fli… The present is hell, and the comin… But brings, with new torture, the… From my eye flows no tear, from my…
Through thy battlements, Newstead… Thou, the hall of my Fathers, art… In thy once smiling garden, the he… Have choak’d up the rose, which la… Of the mail-cover’d Barons, who,…
There was a sound of revelry by ni… And Belgium’s capital had gathere… Her beauty and her chivalry, and b… The lamps shone o’er fair women an… A thousand hearts beat happily; an…
Who killed John Keats? “I,” says the Quarterly, So savage and Tartarly; “Twas one of my feats.” Who shot the arrow?
To the tune of ‘Why, how now, sau… Why, how now, saucy Tom? If you thus must ramble, I will publish some Remarks on Mister Campbell.
Maid of Athens, ere we part, Give, oh give me back my heart! Or, since that has left my breast, Keep it now, and take the rest! Hear my vow before I go,
In digging up your bones, Tom Pai… Will. Cobbett has done well: You visit him on earth again, He’ll visit you in hell.
High in the midst, surrounded by h… MAGNUS his ample front sublime… Placed on his chair of state, he s… While Sophs and Freshmen tremble… As all around sit wrapt in speechl…
Oh Lady! when I left the shore, The distant shore which gave me bi… I hardly thought to grieve once mo… To quit another spot on earth: Yet here, amidst this barren isle,
When Time, or soon or late, shall… The dreamless sleep that lulls the… Oblivion! may thy languid wing Wave gently o’er my dying bed! No band of friends or heirs be the…
No breath of air to break the wave That rolls below the Athenian’s g… That tomb which, gleaming o’er the… First greets the homeward-veering… High o’er the land he saved in vai…
