ADVANCE--come forth from thy Tyrolean ground,
Dear Liberty! stern Nymph of soul untamed;
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AH! where is Palafox? Nor tongue no pen
Reports of him, his dwelling or his grave!
14 lines, 1 comment
ALAS! what boots the long laborious quest
Of moral prudence, sought through good and ill;
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AND is it among rude untutored Dales,
There, and there only, that the heart is true?
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AVAUNT all specious pliancy of mind
In men of low degree, all smooth pretence!
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"Beloved Vale!" I said, "when I shall con
Those many records of my childish years,
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BRAVE Schill! by death delivered, take thy flight
From Prussia's timid region. Go, and rest
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Brook! whose society the Poet seeks,
Intent his wasted spirits to renew;
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By Moscow self-devoted to a blaze
Of dreadful sacrifice, by Russian blood
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CALL not the royal Swede unfortunate,
Who never did to Fortune bend the knee;
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I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
26 lines, 26 comments
WHEN I have borne in memory what has tamed
Great Nations, how ennobling thoughts depart
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YES! thou art fair, yet be not moved
To scorn the decl
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YOUNG ENGLAND--what is then become of Old
Of dear Old England?
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'Tis said, that some have died for love:
And here and there a churchyard grave is found
52 lines, 2 comments
I marvel how Nature could ever find space
For so many strange contrasts in one human face:
20 lines, 2 comments
There is a change—and I am poor;
Your love hath been, nor long ago,
18 lines, 5 comments
THE Danish Conqueror, on his royal chair, Mustering a face of haughty sovereignty,
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FAREWELL, thou little Nook of mountain-ground, Thou rocky corner in the lowest stair
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TELL me, ye Zephyrs! that unfold,
While fluttering o'er this gay Recess,
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"MISERRIMUS," and neither name nor date,
Prayer, text, or symb
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GENIUS of Raphael! if thy wings
Might bear thee to this
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FANCY, who leads the pastimes of the glad,
Full oft is please
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A narrow girdle of rough stones and crags,
A rude and natural causeway, interposed
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Lo! where the Moon along the sky
Sails with her happy destiny;
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———The sky is overcast
With a continuous cloud of texture close,
25 lines, 2 comments
Where holy ground begins, unhallowed ends,
Is marked by
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A poet!—He hath put his heart to school, Nor dares to move unpropped upon the staff
13 lines, 2 comments
Art thou a Statist in the van
Of public conflicts trained and bred?
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HIGH deeds, O Germans, are to come from you! Thus in your books the record shall be found,
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