#EnglishWriters #Romantic
Without a stone to mark the spot, And say, what Truth might well ha… By all, save one, perchance forgot… Ah! wherefore art thou lowly laid? By many a shore and many a sea
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.
THOUGH the day of my destiny’s… And the star of my fate hath decli… Thy soft heart refused to discover The faults which so many could fin… Though thy soul with my grief was…
With death doom’d to grapple, Beneath this cold slab, he Who lied in the Chapel Now lies in the Abbey.
When Bishop Berkeley said “there… And proved it—'twas no matter what… They say his system 'tis in vain t… Too subtle for the airiest human h… And yet who can believe it! I wou…
The roses of Love glad the garden… Though nurtur’d 'mid weeds droppin… Till Time crops the leaves with u… Or prunes them for ever, in Love’… In vain, with endearments, we soot…
I want a hero: an uncommon want, When every year and month sends fo… Till, after cloying the gazettes w… The age discovers he is not the tr… Of such as these I should not car…
In this book a traveller had writt… ‘Fair Albion, smiling, sees her s… To trace the birth and nursery of… Noble his object, glorious is his… He comes to Athens, and he writes…
When Thurlow this damn’d nonsense… (I hope I am not violent), Nor men nor gods knew what he mean… And since not even our Rogers’ pr… To common sense his thoughts could…
The Serfs are glad through Lara’s… And slavery half forgets her feuda… He, their unhoped, but unforgotten… The long self-exiled chieftain is… There be bright faces in the busy…
If, for silver or for gold, You could melt ten thousand pimple… Into half a dozen dimples, Then your face we might behold, Looking, doubtless, much more snug…
Ill-fated Heart! And can it be, That thou should’st thus be rent i… Have years of care for thine and t… Alike been all employ’d in vain? Yet precious seems each shatter’d…
Farewell to the Land where the gl… Arose and o’ershadow’d the earth w… She abandons me now—but the page o… The brightest or blackest, is fill… I have warr’d with a world which v…
When, to their airy hall, my fathe… Shall call my spirit, joyful in th… When, poised upon the gale, my for… Or, dark in mist, descend the moun… Oh! may my shade behold no sculptu…
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…