Artist, I own thy genius; but the touch May be too restless, and the glare too much: And sure none ever saw a landscape shine, Basking in beams of such a sun as thine, But felt a fervid dew upon his phiz,...
O sovereign Master! who with lonely state Dost rule as in some isle's enchanted land, On whom soft airs and shadowy spirits wait, Whilst scenes of "faerie" bloom at thy command,...
The wild pear whispers, and the ivy crawls, Along the circuit of thine ancient walls, Lone city of the dead! and near this mound,[200] The buried coins of mighty men are found,...
What various objects strike with various force, Achilles, Hebe, and Sir Watkin's horse! Here summer scenes, there Pentland's stormy ridge, Lords, ladies, Noah's ark, and Cranford bridge!...
How cheering are thy prospects, airy hill, To him who, pale and languid, on thy brow Pauses, respiring, and bids hail again The upland breeze, the comfortable sun,...
Oh, shout for Lautaro, the young and the brave! The arm of whose strength was uplifted to save, When the steeds of the strangers came rushing amain, And the ghosts of our fathers looked down on the slain! ...
Stranger, stay, nor wish to climb The heights of yonder hills sublime; For there strange shapes and spirits dwell,[1] That oft the murmuring thunders swell, Of power from the impending steep...
The Norman armament beneath thy rocks, St Valerie, Is moored; and, streaming to the morn, three hundred banners fly, Of crimson silk; with golden cross, effulgent o'er the rest,...
By thy habitation dread, In the valley of the dead, Where no sun, nor day, nor night, Breaks the red and dusky light; By the grisly troops, that ride, Of slaughtered Spaniards, at thy side,--...
What pale and bleeding youth, whilst the fell blast Howls o'er the wreck, and fainter sinks the cry Of struggling wretches ere, o'erwhelmed, they die, Yet floats upborne upon the driving mast!...
The moonlight is without; and I could lose An hour to gaze, though Taste and Splendour here, As in a lustrous fairy palace, reign! Regardless of the lights that blaze within,...
Smooth went our boat upon the summer seas, Leaving, for so it seemed, the world behind, Its sounds of mingled uproar: we, reclined Upon the sunny deck, heard but the breeze...
This poem was first published under the name of "One of the Living Poets of Great Britain." I have thought it best to revise and publish it in my own name, and as it is the last written by me, and the last I may ever live to wr...
While summer airs scarce breathe along the tide, Oft pausing, up the mountain's craggy side We climb, how beautiful, how still, how clear, The scenes that stretch around! The rocks that rear...
Come, lovely Evening! with thy smile of peace Visit my humble dwelling; welcomed in, Not with loud shouts, and the thronged city's din, But with such sounds as bid all tumult cease...