The works of ... lord Byron, Volume 5

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Page 145 - 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:
Page 183 - And the name of the star is called Wormwood: " and the third part of the waters became wormwood; and " many men died of the waters, because they were made bitter.
Page 141 - beneath. 5. Oh could I feel as I have felt,—or be what I have been, Or weep as I could once have wept, o'er many a vanished scene: As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish though they be, So midst the wither'd waste of life, those tears would flow to me.
Page 137 - They know not I knew thee, Who knew thee too well:— Long, long shall I rue thee, Too deeply to tell. 4. In secret we met— In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee?— With silence and tears. 1808. STANZAS FOR MUSIC.*
Page 142 - 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 : So the spirit bows before thee, To listen and adore thee ; With a full but soft emotion, Like the swell of Summer's ocean.
Page 179 - While Eloquence—Wit—Poesy—and Mirth, That humbler Harmonist of care on Earth, Survive within our souls—while lives our sense Of pride in Merit's proud pre-eminence, Long shall we seek his likeness—long in vain, And turn to all of him which may remain, Sighing that Nature formed but one such man, And broke the die—in moulding Sheridan!
Page 109 - XV. The Convent bells are ringing, But mournfully and slow; In the grey square turret swinging, With a deep sound, to and fro. Heavily to the heart they go ! Hark ! the hymn is singing— The song for the dead below, Or the living who shortly shall be so ! For a departing being's soul
Page 130 - 3. When fortune changed—and love fled far, And hatred's shafts flew thick and fast, Thou wert the solitary star Which rose and set not to the last. 4. Oh! blest be thine unbroken light! That watched me as a seraph's eye, And stood between me and the night, For ever shining sweetly nigh.
Page 147 - wouldst solace gather, When our child's first accents flow, Wilt thou teach her to say " Father !" Though his care she must forego ? When her little hands shall press thee, When her lip to thine is prest, Think of him whose prayer shall bless thee, Think of him thy love had bless'd
Page 176 - The foe—the fool—the jealous—and the vain, The envious who but breathe in others' pain, Behold the host! delighting to deprave, Who track the steps of Glory to the grave, Watch every fault that daring Genius owes Half to the ardour which its birth bestows, Distort the truth, accumulate the lie, And pile the Pyramid of Calumny

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