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Category Poets

Sonnet: From the Italian of Dante

Guido, I would that Lapo, thou, and I,Led by some strong enchantment, might ascendA magic ship, whose charmed sails should flyWith winds at will where’er our thoughts might wend,So that no change, nor any evil chanceShould mar our joyous voyage;…

Sonnet—Ye Hasten to the Grave!

Ye hasten to the grave! What seek ye there,Ye restless thoughts and busy purposesOf the idle brain, which the world’s livery wear?O thou quick heart, which pantest to possessAll that pale Expectation feigneth fair!Thou vainly curious mind which wouldest guessWhence…

Song. Translated from the Italian

Oh! what is the gain of restless care,And what is ambitious treasure?And what are the joys that the modish share,In their sickly haunts of pleasure? My husband’s repast with delight I spread,What though ’tis but rustic fare,May each guardian angel…

Song. Translated from the German

Ah! grasp the dire dagger and couch the fell spear,If vengeance and death to thy bosom be dear,The dastard shall perish, death’s torment shall prove,For fate and revenge are decreed from above. Ah! where is the hero, whose nerves strung…

Song. To [Harriet]

Ah! sweet is the moonbeam that sleeps on yon fountain,And sweet the mild rush of the soft-sighing breeze,And sweet is the glimpse of yon dimly-seen mountain,‘Neath the verdant arcades of yon shadowy trees. But sweeter than all was thy tone…

Song. Sorrow

To me this world’s a dreary blank,All hopes in life are gone and fled,My high strung energies are sank,And all my blissful hopes lie dead.— The world once smiling to my view,Showed scenes of endless bliss and joy;The world I…

Song. Hope

And said I that all hope was fled,That sorrow and despair were mine,That each enthusiast wish was dead,Had sank beneath pale Misery’s shrine.— Seest thou the sunbeam’s yellow glow,That robes with liquid streams of light;Yon distant Mountain’s craggy brow.And shows…

Song. Despair

Ask not the pallid stranger’s woe,With beating heart and throbbing breast,Whose step is faltering, weak, and slow,As though the body needed rest.— Whose ‘wildered eye no object meets,Nor cares to ken a friendly glance,With silent grief his bosom beats,—Now fixed,…