The Poetical Works of Lord Byron, Volume 3, Part 1J. Murray, 1873 |
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Page 24
... These times are past - our joys are gone , You leave me , leave this happy vale ; These scenes I must retrace alone : Without thee what will they avail ? Who can conceive , who has not proved , The 23 HOURS OF IDLENESS . 24 To Emma.
... These times are past - our joys are gone , You leave me , leave this happy vale ; These scenes I must retrace alone : Without thee what will they avail ? Who can conceive , who has not proved , The 23 HOURS OF IDLENESS . 24 To Emma.
Page 27
... scenes of her youth with a tear ; That the time must arrive , when , no longer retaining Their auburn , those locks must wave thin to the breeze , When a few silver hairs of those tresses remaining , Prove nature a prey to decay and ...
... scenes of her youth with a tear ; That the time must arrive , when , no longer retaining Their auburn , those locks must wave thin to the breeze , When a few silver hairs of those tresses remaining , Prove nature a prey to decay and ...
Page 32
... scenes invite me far away ; Yes ! I have mark'd within that generous mind A soul , if well matured , to bless mankind . Ah ! though myself , by nature haughty , wild , Whom Indiscretion hail'd her favourite child ; Though every error ...
... scenes invite me far away ; Yes ! I have mark'd within that generous mind A soul , if well matured , to bless mankind . Ah ! though myself , by nature haughty , wild , Whom Indiscretion hail'd her favourite child ; Though every error ...
Page 33
... scene of joys and woes ; Each knell of Time now warns me to resign Shades where Hope , Peace , and Friendship all were ... Scenes hail'd , as exiles hail their native shore , Receding slowly through the dark - blue deep , Beheld by eyes ...
... scene of joys and woes ; Each knell of Time now warns me to resign Shades where Hope , Peace , and Friendship all were ... Scenes hail'd , as exiles hail their native shore , Receding slowly through the dark - blue deep , Beheld by eyes ...
Page 35
... scene I'll turn mine eye , as night grows later , To view , unheeded and unseen , The studious sons of Alma Mater . There , in apartments small and damp , The candidate for college prizes Sits poring by the midnight lamp ; Goes late to ...
... scene I'll turn mine eye , as night grows later , To view , unheeded and unseen , The studious sons of Alma Mater . There , in apartments small and damp , The candidate for college prizes Sits poring by the midnight lamp ; Goes late to ...
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Common terms and phrases
Allan's Alva's bard beam beauty behold beneath blest bliss bosom breast breath brow Calmar Capel Lofft CATULLUS dare dark dead dear death dream E'en Edinburgh Review expire falchion fame fate fear feel fire flame foes fond forget friendship glory glow grave hapless Harrow hath heart heaven hero honour hope hour Iulus Jeffrey kiss lady Latian line 12 live Lochlin Lord Byron love's last adieu lyre mingle Morven mourn muse ne'er never Newstead Newstead Abbey night Nisus Nisus and Euryalus numbers o'er once Orla Oscar passion perchance pibroch poem poet praise pride Probus R. B. SHERIDAN remembrance rhyme rise rolls satire scene shade sigh sire sleep slumbers smile song soothe soul Southey stanzas strain sweet tears thee thine thou thought throng truth twill verse voice wave weep wings young youth
Popular passages
Page 319 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen; Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
Page 319 - But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail: And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
Page 319 - And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord ! A SPIRIT PASS'D BEFORE ME.
Page 327 - Fare thee well! and if for ever, Still for ever, fare thee well: Even though unforgiving, never 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. Would that breast were bared before thee Where thy head so oft hath lain, While that placid sleep came o'er thee Which thou ne'er canst know again : Would that breast, by thee glanced over, Every inmost thought could show!
Page 359 - A change came o'er the spirit of my dream. The 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...
Page 6 - See how a minor can write! This poem was actually composed by a young man of eighteen, and this by one of only sixteen!» — But, alas! we all remember the poetry of Cowley at ten, and Pope at twelve; and so far from hearing, with any degree of surprise, that very poor verses were written by a youth from his leaving school to his leaving college, inclusive, we really believe this to be the most common of all occurrences; that it happens in the life- of nine men in ten who are educated in England;...
Page 293 - All Evil Spirit as thou art, It is enough to grieve the heart To see thine own unstrung; To think that God's fair world hath been The footstool of a thing so mean!
Page 313 - Fix'd in its own eternity. Above or love, hope, hate, or fear, It lives all passionless and pure : An age shall fleet like earthly year ; Its years as moments shall endure. Away, away, without a wing, O'er all, through all, its thoughts shall fly ; A nameless and eternal thing, Forgetting what it was to die.
Page 10 - But whatever judgment may be passed on the poems of this noble minor, it seems we must take them as we find them, and be content; for they are the last we shall ever have from him. He is, at best, he says, but an intruder into the groves of Parnassus ; he never lived in a garret, like thorough-bred poets; and "though he once roved a careless mountaineer in the Highlands of Scotland," he has not of late enjoyed this advantage.
Page 348 - Of light no likeness is bequeath'd — no name, Focus at once of all the rays of Fame ! The flash of Wit, the bright Intelligence, The beam of Song, the blaze of Eloquence, Set with their Sun, but still have left behind The enduring produce of immortal Mind ; Fruits of a genial morn, and glorious noon, A deathless part of him who died too soon.