The Life of Lord Byron: With His Letters and Journals, Volumes 1-2

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Claxton, Remsen & Haffelfinger, 1869

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Page 594 - So, we'll go no more a-roving So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving, And the moon be still as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And Love itself have rest. Though the night was made for loving, And the day returns too soon, Yet we'll go no more a-roving By the light of the moon.
Page 562 - I did remind thee of our own dear lake By the old Hall which may be mine no more Leman's is fair - but think not I forsake The sweet remembrance of a dearer shore Sad havoc Time must with my memory make Ere that or thou can fade these eyes before Though like all things which I have loved - they are Resigned for ever - or divided far.
Page 112 - But wild beasts of the desert shall lie there; and their houses shall be full of doleful creatures; and owls shall dwell there, and satyrs shall dance there.
Page 563 - For thee, my own sweet sister, in thy heart I know myself secure, as thou in mine; We were and are — I am, even as thou art — Beings who ne'er each other can resign; It is the same, together or apart, From life's commencement to its slow decline We are entwined — let death come slow or fast, The tie which bound the first endures the last!
Page 348 - There is not a gem, a coin, a book thrown aside on his chimney-piece, his sofa, his table, that does not bespeak an almost fastidious elegance in the possessor.
Page 571 - I have been over Verona. The amphitheatre is wonderful — beats even Greece. Of the truth of Juliet's story they seem tenacious to a degree, insisting on the fact — giving a date (1303), and showing a tomb. It is a plain, open, and partly decayed sarcophagus, with withered leaves in it, in a wild and desolate conventual garden, once a cemetery, now ruined to the very graves. The situation struck me as very appropriate to the legend, being blighted as their love.
Page 561 - The gift, — a fate, or will, that walk'd astray ; And I at times have found the struggle hard, And thought of shaking off my bonds of clay: But now I fain would for a time survive, If but to see what next can well arrive.
Page 458 - In consequence of these representations, he agreed that his friend should write a proposal for him to the other lady named, which was accordingly done; and an answer, containing a refusal, arrived as they were, one morning, sitting together. " You see," said Lord Byron, " that, after all, Miss Milbanke is to be the person; I will write to her.
Page 488 - I left it naturally in the urn with the bones, — but it is now missing. As the theft was not of a nature to be practised by a mere domestic, I am compelled to suspect the inhospitality of some individual of higher station, — most gratuitously exercised certainly, since, after what I have here said, no one will probably choose to boast of possessing this literary curiosity.
Page 34 - We were on good terms, but his brother was my intimate friend. There were always great hopes of Peel, amongst us all, masters and scholars — and he has not disappointed them. As a scholar he was greatly my superior ; as a declaimer and actor, I was reckoned at least his equal...

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