The poetical works of lord Byron, with lifeGall & Inglis, 1859 - 576 pages |
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Page xii
... voice , sentence of social excommunication was passed upon him . Add to this , that his pecuniary embarrassments , which were already so great that , in the single year of his married life , his house was nine times in the possession of ...
... voice , sentence of social excommunication was passed upon him . Add to this , that his pecuniary embarrassments , which were already so great that , in the single year of his married life , his house was nine times in the possession of ...
Page 3
... voice of praise , may at least arrest the arm of censure . A considerable portion of these poems has been privately printed , at the request and for the perusal of my friends . I am sensible that the partial and frequently injudicious ...
... voice of praise , may at least arrest the arm of censure . A considerable portion of these poems has been privately printed , at the request and for the perusal of my friends . I am sensible that the partial and frequently injudicious ...
Page 7
... voice Shall call my spirit , joyful in their choice ; When , poised upon the gale my form shall ride , Or , dark in mist , descend the mountain's side ; Oh ! may my shade behold no sculptured urns To mark the spot where earth to earth ...
... voice Shall call my spirit , joyful in their choice ; When , poised upon the gale my form shall ride , Or , dark in mist , descend the mountain's side ; Oh ! may my shade behold no sculptured urns To mark the spot where earth to earth ...
Page 13
... voice shall raise no impious strain ' Gainst him who rules the sky and azure main . How different now thy joyless fate , Since first Hesione thy bride , When placed aloft in godlike state , The blushing beauty by thy side , Thou sat'st ...
... voice shall raise no impious strain ' Gainst him who rules the sky and azure main . How different now thy joyless fate , Since first Hesione thy bride , When placed aloft in godlike state , The blushing beauty by thy side , Thou sat'st ...
Page 18
... voice of truth , Ask thine own heart ; ' twill bid thee , boy , forbear ; For well I know that virtue lingers there . Yes ! I have mark'd thee many a passing day , But now new scenes invite me far away ; Yes ! I have mark'd within that ...
... voice of truth , Ask thine own heart ; ' twill bid thee , boy , forbear ; For well I know that virtue lingers there . Yes ! I have mark'd thee many a passing day , But now new scenes invite me far away ; Yes ! I have mark'd within that ...
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Common terms and phrases
adieu Albania ANACREON Athens bard beauty behold beneath blest blood bosom breast breath brow Byron Calmar CATULLUS cheek Childe Harold clouds dare dark dead dear death deeds deep dread dream dwell earth Edinburgh Review fair falchion fame fate fear feel fix'd foes forget gaze Giaour glance glory glow grave Greece grief hand hast hate hath heard heart heaven hope hour kiss land Lara's lips live lonely look Lord Lord Byron lyre mingle mortal mountain muse ne'er never Newstead Abbey night numbers o'er once Parisina pass'd passion perchance poem pride Samian wine scarce scene seem'd shine shore SIEGE OF CORINTH sigh slave sleep smile song soothe soul spirit sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought tomb turn'd twas twill voice wall wave weep wild wind wing words young youth Zuleika
Popular passages
Page 388 - Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
Page 447 - Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain.
Page 491 - You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet, Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone ? Of two such lessons, why forget The nobler and the manlier one ? You have the letters Cadmus gave — Think ye he meant them for a slave ? Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!
Page 490 - The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece ! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, — Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung ! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set.
Page 491 - Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ! We will not think of themes like these ! It made Anacreon's song divine: He served — but served Polycrates : A tyrant; but our masters then Were still, at least, our countrymen.
Page 463 - THERE be none of Beauty's daughters With a magic like thee ; And like music on the waters Is thy sweet voice to me : When, as if its sound were causing The charmed ocean's pausing, The waves lie still and gleaming, And the lull'd winds seem dreaming, And the midnight moon is weaving Her bright chain o'er the deep ; Whose breast is gently heaving, As an infant's asleep...
Page 284 - I have done with this new day, Which now is painful to these eyes, Which have not seen the sun so rise For years — I cannot count them o'er, I lost their long and heavy score When my last brother droop'd and died. And I lay living by his side. They chain'd us each to a column stone, And we were three — yet, each alone : We could not move a single pace, We could not see each other's face. But with that pale and livid light That made us strangers in our sight...
Page 397 - The castled crag of Drachenfels Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, Whose breast of waters broadly swells Between the banks which bear the vine...
Page 404 - He is an evening reveller who makes His life an infancy, and sings his fill; At intervals, some bird from out the brakes Starts into voice a moment, then is still, There seems a floating whisper on the hill, But that is fancy, for the starlight dews All silently their tears of love instil. Weeping themselves away, till they infuse Deep into Nature's breast the spirit of her hues.
Page 283 - 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.