#EnglishWriters #Romantic
‘Nil ego contulerim jucundo sanus… Dear Long, in this sequester’d sc… While all around in slumber lie, The joyous days, which ours have b… Come rolling fresh on Fancy’s eye…
On Jordan’s banks the Arab’s came… On Sion’s hill the False One’s v… The Baal-adorer bows on Sinai’s s… Yet there– even there– Oh God! th… There - where thy finger scorch’d…
The braziers, it seems, are prepar… An address, and present it themsel… A superfluous pageant-for, by the… They’ll find where they’re going m…
Good plays are scarce: So Moore writes farce. The poet’s fame grows brittle— We knew before That Little’s Moore,
Of two fair virgins, modest, thoug… Heaven made us happy; and now, wre… Heaven for a nobler doom their wor… And gazing upon either, both requi… Mine, while the torch of Hymen ne…
Absent or present, still to thee, My friend, what magic spells belon… As all can tell, who share, like m… In turn thy converse and thy song. But when the dreaded hour shall co…
Here’s a happy new year! but with… I beg you’ll permit me to say Wish me many returns of the season… But as few as you please of the dy… January 2, 1820.
When some proud son of man returns… Unknown to glory, but upheld by bi… The sculptor’s art exhausts the po… And storied urns record who rest b… When all is done, upon the tomb is…
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,
Bright be the place of thy soul! No lovelier spirit than thine E’er burst from its mortal control In the orbs of the blessed to shin… On earth thou wert all but divine,
Farewell! if ever fondest prayer For other’s weal avail’d on high, Mine will not all be lost in air, But waft thy name beyond the sky. Twere vain to speak, to weep, to s…
Hail, Muse! et cetera.—We left J… Pillow’d upon a fair and happy bre… And watch’d by eyes that never yet… And loved by a young heart, too de… To feel the poison through her spi…
There is a pleasure in the pathles… There is a rapture on the lonely s… There is society, where none intru… By the deep sea, and music in its… I love not man the less, but Natu…
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,…
Oh! might I kiss those eyes of fi… A million scarce would quench desi… Still would I steep my lips in bl… And dwell an age on every kiss; Nor then my soul should sated be,