The Works of Lord Byron, Volume 4

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J. Murray, 1905
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Page 27 - A small green isle, it seem'd no more, Scarce broader than my dungeon floor, But in it there were three tall trees, And o'er it blew the mountain breeze, And by it there were waters flowing, And on it there were young flowers growing, Of gentle breath and hue.
Page 39 - And he stood calm and quiet, and he spoke The fitting vows, — but heard not his own words; And all things reel'd around him...
Page 15 - 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, With marks that will not wear away...
Page 384 - They never fail who die In a great cause. The block may soak their gore, Their 'heads may sodden in the sun, their limbs Be strung to city gates and castle walls, But still their spirit walks abroad. Though years Elapse and others share as dark a doom, They but augment the deep and sweeping thoughts Which overpower all others and conduct The world at last to freedom.
Page 171 - I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds as if it •should be writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet South, And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in, That not a single accent seems uncouth, Like our harsh northern whistling, grunting guttural, Which we're obliged to hiss, and spit, and sputter all.
Page 164 - Signior Antonio, many a time and oft, In the Rialto, you have rated me About my moneys and my usances : Still have I borne it with a patient shrug ; For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe : You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, And all for use of that which is mine own'.
Page 43 - I HAD a dream, which was not all a dream. The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, Rayless, and pathless ; and the icy earth , Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air...
Page 43 - And men forgot their passions in the dread Of this their desolation; and all hearts Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light: And they did live by watchfires - and the thrones, The palaces of crowned kings...
Page 33 - And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy ; They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being ; they become A portion of ourselves as of our time, And look like heralds of eternity ; They pass like spirits of the past...
Page 485 - SAINT Peter sat by the celestial gate, His keys were rusty, and the lock was dull, So little trouble had been given of late ; Not that the place by any means was full, But since the Gallic era

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