Versuri romana si engleza

Rezultatele căutării

Număr de rezultate: 33

24.11.2022

To M. S. G. / When I Dream That You Love



When I dream that you love me, you'll surely forgive
24.11.2022

To M.



Oh! did those eyes, instead of fire,
With bright, but mild affection shine:
Though they might kindle less desire,
Love, more than mortal, would be thine.
 
For thou art form'd so heavenly fair,
Howe'er those orbs may wildly beam,
We must admire, but still despair
24.11.2022

To Lesbia



Lesbia! since far from you I’ve ranged,
Our souls with fond affection glow not
24.11.2022

Love’s Last Adieu



The roses of Love glad the garden of life,
Though nurtur’d ‘mid weeds dropping pestilent dew,
Till Time crops the leaves with unmerciful knife,
Or prunes them for ever, in Love’s last adieu!
 
In vain, with endearments, we soothe the sad heart,
In vain do we vow for an age to be true
24.11.2022

When I Roved A Young Highlander



When I roved a young Highlander o’er the dark heath,
And climb’d thy steep sumrnit, oh Morven of snow!
To gaze on the torrent that thunder’d beneath,
Or the mist of the tempest that gather’d below,
Untutor’d by science, a stranger to fear,
And rude as the rocks where my infancy grew,
No feeling, save one, to my bosom was dear
Need I say, my sweet Mary, ’twas centred in you?
 
Yet it could not be love, for I knew not the name,-
What passion can dwell in the heart of a child?
But still I pereceive an emotion the same
As I felt, when a boy, on the crag cover’d wild:
One image alone on my bosom impress’d
I loved my bleak regions, nor panted for new
12.11.2022

All is Vanity, Saith the Preacher



Fame, wisdom, love, and power were mine,
And health and youth possess’d me
12.11.2022

Saul



Thou whose spell can raise the dead,
Bid the prophet's form appear.
'Samuel, raise thy buried head!
King, behold the phantom seer!'
 
Earth yawn'd
12.11.2022

Ode to Napoleon Buonaparte



I.
'Tis done—but yesterday a King!
⁠And armed with Kings to strive—
And now thou art a nameless thing:
⁠So abject—yet alive!
Is this the man of thousand thrones,
Who strewed our earth with hostile bones,
⁠And can he thus survive?
Since he, miscalled the Morning Star,
Nor man nor fiend hath fallen so far.
 
II.
Ill-minded man! why scourge thy kind
⁠Who bowed so low the knee?
By gazing on thyself grown blind,
⁠Thou taught'st the rest to see.
With might unquestioned,—power to save,—
Thine only gift hath been the grave
⁠To those that worshipped thee
10.11.2022

Lines Written in an Album at Malta



As o’er the cold sepulchral stone
Some name arrests the passer-by
08.11.2022

Song For The Luddites



I.
As the Liberty lads o’er the sea
Bought their freedom, and cheaply, with blood,
So we, boys, we
Will die fighting, or live free,
And down with all kings but King Ludd!
 
II.
When the web that we weave is complete,
And the shuttle exchanged for the sword,
We will fling the winding sheet
O’er the despot at our feet,
And dye it deep in the gore he has pour’d.
 
III.
Though black as his heart its hue,
Since his veins are corrupted to mud,
Yet this is the dew
Which the tree shall renew
Of Liberty, planted by Ludd!
 
(24.12.1816)
 

08.11.2022

Hours of Idleness



On a distant view of the Village and School of Harrow on the Hill
 
Oh! mihi præteritos referat si Jupiter annos.
 
Ye scenes of my childhood, whose lov'd recollection,
Embitters the present, compar'd with the past
08.11.2022

To Mary, On Receiving Her Picture



This faint resemblance of thy charms,
(Though strong as mortal art could give,)
My constant heart of fear disarms,
Revives my hopes, and bids me live.
 
Here, I can trace the locks of gold
Which round thy snowy forehead wave
08.11.2022

Epitaph On John Adams, Of Southwell



- A Carrier, Who Died Of Drunkenness -
 
John Adams lies here, of the parish of Southwell,
A Carrier who carried his can to his mouth well:
He carried so much, and he carried so fast,
He could carry no more‑so was carried at last
08.11.2022

Epitaph For William Pitt



With death doom’d to grapple,
Beneath this cold slab, he
Who lied in the Chapel
Now lies in the Abbey.
 
(02.01.1820)
 

08.11.2022

Epigram, on the Braziers’ Company Having Resolved to Present an Address to Queen Caroline



The braziers, it seems, are preparing to pass
An address, and present it themselves all in brass,—
A superfluous pageant-for, by the Lord Harry!
They’ll find where they’re going much more than they carry.
 
(06.01.1821)
 

07.11.2022

For Music



There be none of Beauty’s daughters
With a magic like thee
07.11.2022

Prometheus



Titan! to whose immortal eyes
The sufferings of mortality,
Seen in their sad reality,
Were not as things that gods despise
06.11.2022

Lines to a Lady Weeping



Weep, Daughter of a royal line,
A Sire’s disgrace, a realm’s decay
06.11.2022

Windsor Poetics:



Lines Composed on the Occasion of His Royal Highness the Prince Regent
Being Seen Standing Between the Coffins of Henry Viii
and Charles I, in the Royal Vault at Windsor
 
Famed for contemptuous breach of sacred ties,
By headless Charles see heartless Henry lies
06.11.2022

Ode (From the French)



I.
We do not curse thee, Waterloo!
Though Freedom’s blood thy plain bedew
04.11.2022

Lines Addressed To The Rev. J. T. Becher



-On His Advising The Author To Mix More With Society-
 
Dear Becher, you tell me to mix with mankind
04.11.2022

Lachin Y Gair (Dark Lochnagar)



Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses !
In you let the minions of luxury rove,
Restore me the rocks where the snow-flake reposes,
Though still they are sacred to freedom and love.
Yet Caledonia, beloved are thy mountains,
Round their white summits though elements war,
Though cataracts foam ‘stead of smooth-flowing fountains,
I sigh for the valley of dark Loch na Garr.
 
Ah ! there my young footsteps in infancy wander’d,
My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid.
On chieftains long perish’d my memory ponder’d
As daily I strode through the pine-cover’d glade.
I sought not my home till the day’s dying glory
Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star,
For fancy was cheer’d by traditional story
Disclos’d by the natives of dark Loch na Garr.
 
Shades of the dead ! Have I not heard your voices
Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale ?
Surely the soul of the hero rejoices,
And rides on the wind o’er his own Highland vale.
Round Loch na Garr while the stormy mist gathers,
Winter presides in his cold icy car.
Clouds there encircle the forms of my fathers
04.11.2022

I would I were a careless child



I would I were a careless child,
Still dwelling in my Highland cave,
Or roaming through the dusky wild,
Or bounding o’er the dark blue wave
04.11.2022

To Romance



Parent of golden dreams, Romance!
Auspicious Queen of childish joys,
Who lead’st along, in airy dance,
Thy votive train of girls and boys
04.11.2022

Well! thou art happy, and I feel



Well! thou art happy, and I feel
That I should thus be happy too
04.11.2022

To a Lady, on Being Asked my Reasons for Quitting England in the Spring



When Man, expell’d from Eden’s bowers,
A moment linger’d near the gate,
Each scene recall’d the vanish’d hours,
And bade him curse his future fate.
 
But, wandering on through distant climes,
He learnt to bear his load of grief
17.03.2022

From Don Juan ( Canto I, 200-203)



My Poem’s Epic, and is meant to be
Divided in twelve books
24.02.2022

From “Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage”, Canto III, CXIII-CXIVI



CXIII.
 
I have not loved the world, nor the world me
24.02.2022

From Don Juan ( Canto I, 216-217)



My days of Love are over
23.02.2022

From “Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage”, Canto the First, I



Oh, thou, in Hellas deemed of heavenly birth,
Muse, formed or fabled at the minstrel's will!
Since shamed full oft by later lyres on earth,
Mine dares not call thee from thy sacred hill:
Yet there I've wandered by thy vaunted rill
23.02.2022

From “Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage”, Canto the First, XV-XVI



XV.
 
Oh, Christ! it is a goodly sight to see
What Heaven hath done for this delicious land!
What fruits of fragrance blush on every tree!
What goodly prospects o'er the hills expand!
But man would mar them with an impious hand:
And when the Almighty lifts his fiercest scourge
'Gainst those who most transgress his high command,
With treble vengeance will his hot shafts urge
Gaul's locust host, and earth from fellest foemen purge.
 
XVI.
 
What beauties doth Lisboa first unfold!
Her image floating on that noble tide,
Which poets vainly pave with sands of gold,
But now whereon a thousand keels did ride
Of mighty strength, since Albion was allied,
And to the Lusians did her aid afford
A nation swoll'n with ignorance and pride,
Who lick, yet loathe, the hand that waves the sword.
To save them from the wrath of Gaul's unsparing lord.
 

23.02.2022

The dying gladiator



I see before me the gladiator lie1:
He leans upon his hand