История зарубежной литературы XIX века. Романтизм: учебное пособие

Dear BECHER, you tell me to mix with mankind;I cannot deny such a precept is wise;But retirement accords with the tone of my mind:I will not descend to a world I despise.Did the Senate or Camp my exertions require,Ambition might prompt me, at once, to go forth;When Infancy's years of probation expire,Perchance, I may strive to distinguish my birth.

The fire, in the cavern of Etna, conceal'd,Still mantles unseen in its secret recess;At length, in a volume terrific, reveal'd,No torrent can quench it, no bounds can repress.Oh! thus, the desire, in my bosom, for fameBids me live, but to hope for Posterity's praise.Could I soar with the Phoenix on pinions of flame,With him I would wish to expire in the blaze.

For the life of a Fox, of a Chatham the death,What censure, what danger, what woe would I brave!Their lives did not end, when they yielded their breath,Their glory illumines the gloom of their grave.Yet why should I mingle in Fashion's full herd?Why crouch to her leaders, or cringe to her rules?Why bend to the proud, or applaud the absurd?Why search for delight, in the friendship of fools?

I have tasted the sweets, and the bitters, of love,In friendship I early was taught to believe;My passion the matrons of prudence reprove,I have found that a friend may profess, yet deceive.To me what is wealth?~it may pass in an hour,If Tyrants prevail, or if Fortune should frown:To me what is title?~the phantom of power;To me what is fashion?~I seek but renown.

Deceit is a stranger, as yet, to my soul;I, still, am unpractised to varnish the truth:Then, why should I live in a hateful controul?Why waste, upon folly, the days of my youth?

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