The Works of the Right Honourable Lord Byron: Prisoner of Chillon. Manfred. Lament of Tasso, &cJohn Murray, 1818 |
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Page 33
... all : In the desert a fountain is springing , In the wide waste there still is a tree , And a bird in the solitude singing , Which speaks to my spirit of thee . VOL . VI . D 34 DARKNESS . I HAD a dream , which was STANZAS TO 333.
... all : In the desert a fountain is springing , In the wide waste there still is a tree , And a bird in the solitude singing , Which speaks to my spirit of thee . VOL . VI . D 34 DARKNESS . I HAD a dream , which was STANZAS TO 333.
Page 52
... solitude ; and then- As in that hour - a moment o'er his face The tablet of unutterable thoughts Was traced , and then it faded as it came , - And he stood calm and quiet , and he spoke The fitting vows , but heard not his own words ...
... solitude ; and then- As in that hour - a moment o'er his face The tablet of unutterable thoughts Was traced , and then it faded as it came , - And he stood calm and quiet , and he spoke The fitting vows , but heard not his own words ...
Page 105
... to be bestrode by Death , As told in the Apocalypse . No eyes But mine now drink this sight of loveliness ; I should be sole in this sweet solitude , And with the Spirit of the place divide The homage Scene II . 105 MANFRED .
... to be bestrode by Death , As told in the Apocalypse . No eyes But mine now drink this sight of loveliness ; I should be sole in this sweet solitude , And with the Spirit of the place divide The homage Scene II . 105 MANFRED .
Page 113
... solitude is solitude no more , But peopled with the Furies ; -I have gnash'd My teeth in darkness till returning morn , Then cursed myself till sunset ; I have pray'd For madness as a blessing - ' tis denied me . I have affronted death ...
... solitude is solitude no more , But peopled with the Furies ; -I have gnash'd My teeth in darkness till returning morn , Then cursed myself till sunset ; I have pray'd For madness as a blessing - ' tis denied me . I have affronted death ...
Page 139
... solitude Is as an anchorite's , were it but holy . MAN . And what are they who do avouch these things ? ABBOT . My pious brethren - the scared pea- santry- Even thy own vassals - who do look on thee With most unquiet eyes . Thy life's ...
... solitude Is as an anchorite's , were it but holy . MAN . And what are they who do avouch these things ? ABBOT . My pious brethren - the scared pea- santry- Even thy own vassals - who do look on thee With most unquiet eyes . Thy life's ...
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Common terms and phrases
ABBOT Alps answer Arimanes ASTARTE beautiful BEN JONSON beneath bird blood Bonnivard breath brow Cantos castle chain CHAMOIS HUNTER change came o'er clay clouds cold curse darkness death despair destiny doth dread dream dungeon dwell earth Edition eternal Exit MANFRED eyes fatal fear feel Ferrara fetters Gadara Geneve grave grief hath heart heaven her's HERMAN hour immortal LAMENT OF TASSO light live look LORD LORD BYRON MANUEL mind mix'd mortal mountain NEMESIS night nivard o'er the spirit ocean Pausanias pause perish'd Poem PRISONER OF CHILLON qu'il rise SCENE shadow slumber smile solitude soul speak star stood strange sunbow's tears thee thine things THOMAS CAMPBELL thou art thou didst thou dost thoughts thyself torrent torture twas twere Twill voice walls WALTER SCOTT wandering wave WILLIAM GIFFORD wind WITCH words wreck wretched ΜΑΝ ΐββξς
Popular passages
Page 21 - For he would never thus have flown, And left me twice so doubly lone, Lone as the corse within its shroud, Lone as a solitary cloud, A single cloud on a sunny day, While all the rest of heaven is clear, A frown upon the atmosphere, That hath no business to appear When skies are blue, and earth is gay.
Page 2 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard ! May none those marks efface ! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
Page 15 - He faded, and so calm and meek, So softly worn, so sweetly weak, So tearless, yet so tender, kind, And grieved for those he left behind ; With all the while a cheek whose bloom Was as a mockery of the tomb, Whose tints as gently sunk away As a departing rainbow's ray...
Page 6 - And in each pillar there is a ring, And in each ring there is a chain; That iron is a cankering thing, For in these limbs its teeth remain...
Page 85 - Though thy slumber may be deep Yet thy spirit shall not sleep; There are shades which will not vanish, There are thoughts thou canst not banish...
Page 15 - ... as gently sunk away As a departing rainbow's ray An eye of most transparent light, That almost made the dungeon bright, And not a word of murmur not A groan o'er his untimely lot, A little talk of better days, A little hope my own...
Page 27 - With spiders I had friendship made, And watched them in their sullen trade; Had seen the mice by moonlight play And why should I feel less than they? We were all inmates of one place, And I, the monarch of each race, Had power to kill; yet, strange to tell! In quiet we had learned to dwell. My very chains and I grew friends, So much a long communion tends To make us what we are: even I Regained my freedom with a sigh.
Page 52 - That in the antique oratory shook His bosom in its solitude; and then As in that hour a moment o'er his face The tablet of unutterable thoughts Was traced and then it faded as it came...
Page 30 - Though the day of my destiny's over, And the star of my fate hath declined, Thy soft heart refused to discover The faults which so many could find ; Though thy soul with my grief was acquainted, It shrunk not to share it with me, And the love which my spirit hath painted It never hath found but in thee.
Page 50 - Boy was sprung to manhood: in the wilds Of fiery climes he made himself a home, And his Soul drank their sunbeams: he was girt With strange and dusky aspects; he was not Himself like what he had been; on the sea And on the shore he was a wanderer; There was a mass of many images Crowded like waves upon me...