#English #Romanticism #XIXCentury
At the creation of the Earth Pleasure, that divinest birth, From the soil of Heaven did rise, Wrapped in sweet wild melodies— Like an exhalation wreathing
Those whom nor power, nor lying fa… Nor custom, queen of many slaves,… Have ever grieved that man should… Of his own weakness, and with earn… Fed hopes of its redemption; these…
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…
The world is now our dwelling-plac… Where’er the earth one fading trac… Of what was great and free does ke… That is our home!... Mild thoughts of man’s ungentle ra…
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—
He wanders, like a day-appearing d… Through the dim wildernesses of th… Through desert woods and tracts, w… Like ocean, homeless, boundless, u…
The fountains mingle with the rive… And the rivers with the ocean; The winds of heaven mix forever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single;
So now my summer task is ended, M… And I return to thee, mine own he… As to his Queen some victor Knigh… Earning bright spoils for her inch… Nor thou disdain, that ere my fame…
Ah! faint are her limbs, and her f… Yet far must the desolate wanderer… Though the tempest is stern, and t… She must quit at deep midnight her… I see her swift foot dash the dew…
The babe is at peace within the wo… The corpse is at rest within the t… We begin in what we end.
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.
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,
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.
What! alive and so bold, O Earth? Art thou not overbold? What! leapest thou forth as of old In the light of thy morning mirth, The last of the flock of the starr…
The golden gates of Sleep unbar Where Strength and Beauty, met to… Kindle their image like a star In a sea of glassy weather! Night, with all thy stars look dow…
