Thomas Warton Jr.
an English literary historian, critic, and poet. From 1785 to 1790, he was the Poet Laureate of England. He is sometimes called Thomas Warton the younger to distinguish him from his father Thomas Warton the elder.
Warton was born in Basingstoke, Hampshire, the son of poet Thomas Warton, the Elder, and younger brother of Joseph Warton. As a youngster, Warton demonstrated ... more »
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Thomas Warton Jr. Poems
Ode to Sleep
On this my pensive pillow, gentle Sleep! Descend, in all thy downy plumage drest: Wipe with thy wing these eyes that wake to weep, And place thy crown of poppies on my breast.
On King Arthur's Round Table at Winchest...
Where Venta's Norman castle still uprears Its rafter'd hall, that o'er the grassy foss, And scatter'd flinty fragments clad in moss, On yonder steep in naked state appears;
Solitude at an Inn
Oft upon the twilight plain, Circled with thy shadowy train, While the dove at distance coo'd, Have I met thee, Solitude!
The Pleasures of Melancholy
Mother of musings, Contemplation sage, Whose grotto stands upon the topmost rock Of Teneriffe; 'mid the tempestuous night, On which, in calmest meditation held,
While Summer Suns O'er the Gay Prospect ...
While summer suns o'er the gay prospect play'd, Through Surrey's verdant scenes, where Epsom spread 'Mid intermingling elms her flowery meads, And Hascombe's hill, in towering groves array'd,
Written at Stonehenge
Thou noblest monument of Albion's isle! Whether by Merlin's aid, from Scythia's shore, To Amber's fatal plain Pendragon bore, Huge frame of giant-hands, the mighty pile
Verses on Sir Joshua Reynold's Painted W...
Ah, stay thy treacherous hand, forbear to trace Those faultless forms of elegance and grace! Ah, cease to spread the bright transparent mass, With Titian's pencil, o'er the speaking glass!
Comments about Thomas Warton Jr.
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Ode to Sleep
On this my pensive pillow, gentle Sleep!
Descend, in all thy downy plumage drest:
Wipe with thy wing these eyes that wake to weep,
And place thy crown of poppies on my breast.
O steep my senses in oblivion's balm,
And sooth my throbbing pulse with lenient hand;
This tempest of my boiling blood becalm!
Despair grows mild at thy supreme command.
Yet ah! in vain, familiar with the gloom,
And sadly toiling through the tedious night,
I seek sweet slumber, while that virgin bloom,
For ever hovering, haunts my wretched sight.
Nor would the ...