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Contents
Contents
The Story of Justin Martyr, and Other Poems TO —— The Story Of Justin Martyr. (See Justin Martyr’S First Dialogue With Trypho.) SONNET. TO —— TO THE SAME. TO THE SAME. TO THE SAME. TO THE SAME. A Legend Of Alhambra. ENGLAND. The Island Of Madeira. GIBRALTAR. ENGLAND. Poland, 1831. To Nicholas, Emperor Of Russia. On His Reported Conduct Towards The Poles. On The Results Of The Last French Revolution. To England. A Sequel To The Foregoing. SONNET. Sonnet To Silvio Pellico, On Reading The Account Of His Imprisonment. TO THE SAME. From The Spanish. LINES. To A Friend Entering The Ministry. To A Child, Playing. The Herring-Fishers Of Lochfyne. In The Isle Of Mull. THE SAME. AT SEA. An Evening In France. Sonnet. To My Child—A Fellow-Traveller. The Descent Of The Rhone. On The Perseus And Medusa Of Benvenuto Cellini. Lines. Written At The Village Of Passignano, On The Lake Of Thrasymene. Vesuvius, As Seen From Capri. VESUVIUS. The Same, Continued. To England. Written After A Visit To Sorrento. Lines. Written After Hearing Some Beautiful Singing In A Convent Church At Rome. On A Picture Of The Assumption By Murillo. An Incident Versified. Addressed On Leaving Rome To A Friend Residing In That City. Tasso’S Dungeon, Ferrara. SONNET. At Brunecken, In The Tyrol. SONNET. Lines Written In An Inn. TO E ——. To ——. On The Morning Of Her Baptism. To A Lady Singing. The Same Continued. The Same Continued. The Same Continued. The Same Continued. SONNET. SONNET. Sonnet, Connected With The Foregoing. Despondency [8] . Ode To Sleep. ATLANTIS. SAIS. SONNET. Recollections Of Burgos. TO A FRIEND. To The Constitutional Exiles Of 1823. [ Written In 1829.] TO THE SAME. SONNET. On An Early Death. SONNET. SONNET. New Year’S Eve. TO MY CHILD. SONNET. SONNET. IN A PASS OF BAVARIA BETWEEN THE WALCHEN AND THE WALDENSEE. “His voice was as the sound of many waters.” SONNET. SONNET. To My God-Child, On The Day Of His Baptism. The Monk And Bird. Bookmarks
ENGLAND.
ENGLAND.
We look for, and have promise to beholdA better country, such as earth has none— Yet, England, am I still thy duteous son, And never will this heart be dead or cold At the relation of thy glories old, Or of what newer triumphs thou hast won, Where thou as with a mighty arm hast done The work of God, quelling the tyrants bold. Elect of nations, for the whole world’s good Thou wert exalted to a doom so high— To outbrave Rome’s “triple tyrant,” to confound Every oppressor, that with impious flood Would drown the landmarks of humanity, The limits God hath set to nations and their bound[3] .
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