Kubla Kahn, Samuel Taylor Coleridge In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A ...

Kubla Kahn, Samuel Taylor Coleridge
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And here were gardens bright with sinuous
rills
Where blossomed many an incensebearing
tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which
slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn
cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was
haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
On This Day I Complete My Thirty-
Sixth Year, Lord Byron
'Tis time the heart should be unmoved,
Since others it hath ceased to move:
Yet, though I cannot be beloved,
Still let me love!
My days are in the yellow leaf;
The flowers and fruits of love are gone;
The worm, the canker, and the grief
Are mine alone!
The fire that on my bosom preys
Is lone as some volcanic isle;
No torch is kindled at its blaze--
A funeral pile.
The hope, the fear, the jealous care,
The exalted portion of the pain
And power of love, I cannot share,
But wear the chain.
But 'tis not thus--and 'tis not here--
Such thoughts should shake my soul nor
now,
Where glory decks the hero's bier,
Or binds his brow.
The sword, the banner, and the field,
Glory and Greece, around me see!
The Spartan, borne upon his shield,
Was not more free.
Awake! (not Greece--she is awake!)
Awake, my spirit! Think through whom
Thy life-blood tracks its parent lake,
And then strike home!
Tread those reviving passions down,
Unworthy manhood!--unto thee
Indifferent should the smile or frown
Of beauty be.
If thou regrett'st thy youth, why live?
The land of honourable death
Is here:--up to the field, and give
Away thy breath!
Seek out--less often sought than found--
A soldier's grave, for thee the best;
Then look around, and choose thy ground,
And take thy rest.

Schiller, “Ode to Joy”
Joy is drunk by every being
From kind nature's flowing breasts,
Every evil, every good thing
For her rosy footprint quests.
Gave she us both wines and kisses,
In the face of death, a friend,
To the worm were given blisses
And the Cherubs God attend.
Fall before him, all ye millions?
Know'st thou the Creator, world?
Seek above the stars unfurl'd,
Yonder dwells He in the heavens.
Joy commands the hardy mainspring
Of the universe eterne.
Joy, oh joy the wheel is driving
Which the worlds' great clock doth turn.
Flowers from the buds she coaxes,
Suns from out the hyaline,
Spheres she rotates through expanses,
Which the seer can't divine.
As the suns are flying, happy
Through the heaven's glorious plane,
Travel, brothers, down your lane,
Joyful as in hero's vict'ry.
From the truth's own fiery mirror
On the searcher doth she smile.
Up the steep incline of honor
Guideth she the suff'rer's mile.
High upon faith's sunlit mountains
One can see her banner flies,
Through the breach of open'd coffins
She in angel's choir doth rise.
To Toussaint L’Ouverture, by William
Wordsworth
Toussaint, the most unhappy man of men!
Whether the whistlingRustic tend his
plough
Within thy hearing, or thy head be now
Pillowed in some deep dungeon’s earless
den; -
O miserable Chieftain! Where and when
Wilt thou find patience? Yet die not; do
thou
Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow:
Though fallen thyself, never to rise again,
Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left
behind
Powers that will work for thee; air, earth,
and skies;
There’s not a breathing of the common
wind
That will forget thee; thou hast great allies;
Thy friends are exultations, agonies,
And love, and man’s unconquearable
mind.
Heinrich Heine, “Im wunderschoenen
Monat Mai”
Im Wunderschoenen Monat Mai,
Als alle Knospen sprangen,
Da ist in meinem Herzen
Die Liebe aufgegangen.
Im wunderschoenen Monat Mai,
Als alle Voegel sangen,
Da hab ich ihr gestanden
Men Sehnen und Verlangen.