#EnglishWriters #Romantic
Titan! to whose immortal eyes The sufferings of mortality, Seen in their sad reality, Were not as things that gods despi… What was thy pity’s recompense?
This Band, which bound thy yellow… Is mine, sweet girl! Thy pledge o… It claims my warmest, dearest care… Like relics left of saints above. Oh! I will wear it next my heart;
We do not curse thee, Waterloo! Though Freedom’s blood thy plain… There 'twas shed, but is not sunk Rising from each gory trunk, Like the water-spout from ocean,
Young Oak! when I planted thee de… I hoped that thy days would be lon… That thy dark‑waving branches woul… And ivy thy trunk with its mantle… Such, such was my hope, when in in…
Oh you, who in all names can tickl… Anacreon, Tom Little, Tom Moore,… For hang me if I know of which yo… Your Quarto two-pounds, or your T… But now to my letter-to yours 'tis…
Ambition was my idol, which was br… Before the shrines of Sorrow and… And the two last have left me many… O’er which reflection may be made… Now, like Friar Bacon’s brazen he…
’TIS done—but yesterday a King! And arm’d with Kings to strive— And now thou art a nameless thing: So abject—yet alive! Is this the man of thousand throne…
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,
"The grand army of the Turks, (in 1715), under the Prime Vizier, to open to themselves a way into the heart of the Morea, and to form the siege of Napoli di Romania, the most considerab...
Which, in the Arabic language, is… THE Moorish King rides up and do… Through Granada’s royal town; From Elvira’s gate to those Of Bivarambla on he goes.
Those flaxen locks, those eyes of… Bright as thy mother’s in their hu… Those rosy lips, whose dimples pla… And smile to steal the heart away, Recall a scene of former joy,
Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime, Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine; Where the light wings of...
My hair is grey, but not with year… Nor grew it white In a single night, As men’s have grown from sudden fe… My limbs are bow’d, though not wit…
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…
With death doom’d to grapple, Beneath this cold slab, he Who lied in the Chapel Now lies in the Abbey.