The works of lord Byron, comprehending the suppressed poems, Volumes 1-2 |
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Page 11
... Give me the soft sigh , Whilst the soul - telling eye Is dimm'd , for a time , with a Tear . 3 . Mild Charity's glow , To us mortals below , Shows the soul from barbarity clear ; Compassion will melt , Where this virtue is felt , And ...
... Give me the soft sigh , Whilst the soul - telling eye Is dimm'd , for a time , with a Tear . 3 . Mild Charity's glow , To us mortals below , Shows the soul from barbarity clear ; Compassion will melt , Where this virtue is felt , And ...
Page 16
... But bless the hour when PITT resign'd his breath ; " These feelings wide , let Sense and Truth unclue , " We give the palm where Justice points it due . " To which the Author of these Pieces sent the following 16 POEMS . On the Death of Mr.
... But bless the hour when PITT resign'd his breath ; " These feelings wide , let Sense and Truth unclue , " We give the palm where Justice points it due . " To which the Author of these Pieces sent the following 16 POEMS . On the Death of Mr.
Page 18
... give the palm where Justice points it due ; " Yet let not canker'd calumny assail , Or round our statesman wind her gloomy veil . Fox ! o'er whose corse a mourning world must weep , Whose dear remains in honour'd marble sleep , For whom ...
... give the palm where Justice points it due ; " Yet let not canker'd calumny assail , Or round our statesman wind her gloomy veil . Fox ! o'er whose corse a mourning world must weep , Whose dear remains in honour'd marble sleep , For whom ...
Page 30
... give , My constant heart of fear disarms , Revives my hopes , and bids me live . 20 Here , I can trace the locks of gold , Which round thy snowy forehead wave ; The cheeks , which sprung from Beauty's mould , The lips , which made me ...
... give , My constant heart of fear disarms , Revives my hopes , and bids me live . 20 Here , I can trace the locks of gold , Which round thy snowy forehead wave ; The cheeks , which sprung from Beauty's mould , The lips , which made me ...
Page 90
... give , Or die with him for whom he wish'd to live ! Poising with strength his lifted lance on high , On Luna's orb he cast his phrenzied eye : " Goddess serene , transcending every star ! " Queen of the sky ! whose beams are seen afar ...
... give , Or die with him for whom he wish'd to live ! Poising with strength his lifted lance on high , On Luna's orb he cast his phrenzied eye : " Goddess serene , transcending every star ! " Queen of the sky ! whose beams are seen afar ...
Other editions - View all
The Works of Lord Byron, Comprehending the Suppressed Poems George Gordon Byron No preview available - 2015 |
The Works of Lord Byron, Comprehending the Suppressed Poems George Gordon N. Byron No preview available - 2018 |
The Works of Lord Byron, Comprehending the Suppressed Poems Lord George Gordon Byron, Lord No preview available - 2015 |
Common terms and phrases
adieu Albanian Ali Pacha Athens bards beauties Behold beneath bids blest blood boast bosom breast brow Calmar chief Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE clime dare dark dear deeds deem'd dread dream Dunciad dwell Edinburgh Review Epirus fair fame fate feel gale gaze glory glow Greece Greek hail'd hand hath heart Heaven honour hope hour land live Lochlin Lord Lord Byron lyre maid mighty mingling mortal mountain muse native ne'er never Newstead Abbey night NOTE o'er once Orla Pallas pass'd perchance poem praise rhyme rise rocks roll Romaic sacred scarce scene shade shame shore shrine sigh sleep smile song sons soothe soul Spain Stanza strain tear thee thine thou throng verse wave wild wing youth δὲν εἶναι εἰς καὶ μὲ νὰ σᾶς τὰ τὴν τὸ τὸν τῶν
Popular passages
Page 214 - WHITE !t while life was in its spring, And thy young Muse just waved her joyous wing. The spoiler came ; and all thy promise fair, Has sought the grave, to sleep for ever there. Oh ! what a noble heart was here undone, When Science...
Page 235 - SLOW sinks, more lovely ere his race be run, ^ Along Morea's hills the setting sun ; Not, as in Northern climes, obscurely bright, But one unclouded blaze of living light ! O'er the hushed deep the yellow beam he throws, Gilds the green wave, that trembles as it glows.
Page 74 - Ancient of days ! august Athena ! where, Where are thy men of might, thy grand in soul? Gone, — glimmering through the dream of things that were : First in the race that led to glory's goal, They won, and passed away, — is this the whole?
Page 85 - To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er, or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean , This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Page 175 - And think'st thou, Scott! by vain conceit perchance, On public taste to foist thy stale romance, Though Murray with his Miller may combine To yield thy muse just half-a-crown per line? No! when the sons of song descend to trade, Their bays are sear, their former laurels fade. Let such forego the poet's sacred name, Who rack their brains for lucre, not for fame: Still for stern Mammon may they toil in vain!
Page 29 - Though sluggards deem it but a foolish chase, And marvel men should quit their easy chair, The toilsome way, and long, long league to trace, Oh! there is sweetness in the mountain air, And life, that bloated Ease can never hope to share.
Page 115 - I strode through the pine-covered glade. I sought not my home till the day's dying glory Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star ; For fancy was cheer'd by traditional story, Disclosed by the natives of dark Loch ua Garr.
Page 125 - What is the worst of woes that wait on age ? What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow ? To view each loved one blotted from life's page, And be alone on earth, as I am now.
Page 71 - I had known him ten years, the better half of his life, and the happiest part of mine. In the short space of one month I have lost her who gave me being, and most of those who had made that being tolerable.
Page 180 - Thus, when he tells the tale of Betty Foy, The idiot mother of 'an idiot boy'; A moon-struck, silly lad, who lost his way, And, like his bard, confounded night with day; So close on each pathetic part he dwells, And each adventure so sublimely tells, That all who view the 'idiot in his glory' Conceive the bard the hero of the story.