The Poetical Works of Lord Byron, Volume 2Johnson, Fry & Company, 1873 - English poetry |
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Page 4
... fair locks , and snowy hands , Might shake the saintship of an anchorite , And long had fed his youthful appetite ; His goblets brimm'd with every costly wine , And all that mote to luxury invite , Without a sigh he left to cross the ...
... fair locks , and snowy hands , Might shake the saintship of an anchorite , And long had fed his youthful appetite ; His goblets brimm'd with every costly wine , And all that mote to luxury invite , Without a sigh he left to cross the ...
Page 11
... fair Mount ! when Greece was young , See round thy giant base a brighter choir , Nor e'er did Delphi , when her priestess sung The Pythian hymn with more than mortal fire , Behold a train more fitting to inspire The song of love than ...
... fair Mount ! when Greece was young , See round thy giant base a brighter choir , Nor e'er did Delphi , when her priestess sung The Pythian hymn with more than mortal fire , Behold a train more fitting to inspire The song of love than ...
Page 12
... fair , Others along the safer turnpike fly ; Some Richmond - hill ascend , some scud to Ware , And many to the steep of Highgate hie . Ask ye , Boeotian shades ! the reason why ? 3 ' Tis to the worship of the solemn Horn , Grasp'd in ...
... fair , Others along the safer turnpike fly ; Some Richmond - hill ascend , some scud to Ware , And many to the steep of Highgate hie . Ask ye , Boeotian shades ! the reason why ? 3 ' Tis to the worship of the solemn Horn , Grasp'd in ...
Page 13
... fair , how young , how soft soe'er he seem , Full from the fount of Joy's delicious springs 4 Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings . LXXXIII . Yet to the beauteous form he was not blind , Though now it moved him as it ...
... fair , how young , how soft soe'er he seem , Full from the fount of Joy's delicious springs 4 Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings . LXXXIII . Yet to the beauteous form he was not blind , Though now it moved him as it ...
Page 14
... fair Cadiz ! yea , a long adieu ! Who may forget how well thy walls have stood ? [ " What Exile from himself can flee To other zones , howe'er remote , Still , still pursuing clings to me The blight of life - the demon Thought . " - MS ...
... fair Cadiz ! yea , a long adieu ! Who may forget how well thy walls have stood ? [ " What Exile from himself can flee To other zones , howe'er remote , Still , still pursuing clings to me The blight of life - the demon Thought . " - MS ...
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Common terms and phrases
Adah Anah aught bard bear beauty behold beneath blood bosom breast breath brow Cæs Cain Calmar canto chief Childe Harold dare dark dead death deeds deep Doge Doge of Venice dost dread earth Faliero fame fate father fear feel gaze Giaour grave hand hath hear heard heart heaven honour hope hour Iden Japh leave less Lioni live look Lord Byron Lucifer Marino Faliero mind mortal mountains Myrrha ne'er never Newstead Abbey night noble o'er once palace PANIA Parisina pass'd passion poem poet Sardanapalus scarce scene seem'd Sieg Siege of Corinth Siegendorf sigh sire slave smile soul spirit stanzas Stral strange tears thee thine things thou art thought Ulric Venice verse voice wave wild words young youth
Popular passages
Page 51 - Dark-heaving; — boundless, endless, and sublime; The image of eternity, the throne Of the Invisible: even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
Page 22 - And there was mounting in hot haste— the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war — And the deep thunder peal on peal afar ; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the Morning Star ; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips — 'The foe! They come! they come!' XXVI And wild and high the 'Cameron's Gathering
Page 53 - He who hath bent him o'er the dead Ere the first day of death is fled, The first dark day of nothingness, The last of danger and distress (Before Decay's effacing fingers Have swept the lines where beauty lingers...
Page 22 - Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms, — the day Battle's...
Page 22 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men ; A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell...
Page 28 - The sky is changed! - and such a change! Oh night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder! Not from one lone cloud, But every mountain now hath found a tongue, And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud!
Page 22 - Cameron's gathering' rose! The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes: How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills Their...
Page 22 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, — alas ! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valour, rolling on the foe And burning with high hope shall moulder cold and low.
Page 34 - And even since, and now, fair Italy ! Thou art the garden of the world, the home Of all Art yields, and Nature (') can decree ; Even in thy desert, what is like to thee ? Thy very weeds are beautiful, thy waste ; More rich than other climes' fertility ; Thy wreck a glory, and thy ruin graced With an immaculate charm which cannot be defaced.
Page 22 - But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell, And there hath been thy bane; there is a fire And motion of the soul which will not dwell In its own narrow being, but aspire Beyond the fitting medium of desire; And, but once kindled, quenchless evermore, Preys upon high adventure, nor can tire Of aught but rest; a fever at the core, Fatal to him who bears; to all who ever bore.