The poetical works of lord ByronWard Lock, 1878 |
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Page 35
... hast ceased to be ! Nor stay'd to welcome here thy wanderer home , Who mourns o'er hours which we no more shall see- Would they had never been , or were to come ! Would he had ne'er return'd to find fresh cause to roam ! XCVI . Oh ...
... hast ceased to be ! Nor stay'd to welcome here thy wanderer home , Who mourns o'er hours which we no more shall see- Would they had never been , or were to come ! Would he had ne'er return'd to find fresh cause to roam ! XCVI . Oh ...
Page 39
... hast smiled With a sedate and all - enduring eye ; When Fortune fled her spoil'd and favourite child , He stood unbow'd beneath the ills piled . XL . upon him Sager than in thy fortunes ; for in them Ambition steel'd thee on too far to ...
... hast smiled With a sedate and all - enduring eye ; When Fortune fled her spoil'd and favourite child , He stood unbow'd beneath the ills piled . XL . upon him Sager than in thy fortunes ; for in them Ambition steel'd thee on too far to ...
Page 52
... hast The fatal gift of beauty , which became A funeral dower of present woes and past , On thy sweet brow is sorrow ploughed by shame , And annals graved in characters of flame . O God ! that thou wert in thy nakedness Less lovely or ...
... hast The fatal gift of beauty , which became A funeral dower of present woes and past , On thy sweet brow is sorrow ploughed by shame , And annals graved in characters of flame . O God ! that thou wert in thy nakedness Less lovely or ...
Page 60
... hast made a shrine And temple more divinely desolate , Among thy mightier offerings here are mine , Ruins of years - though few , yet full of fate : If thou hast ever seen me too elate , Hear me not ; but if calmly I have borne Good ...
... hast made a shrine And temple more divinely desolate , Among thy mightier offerings here are mine , Ruins of years - though few , yet full of fate : If thou hast ever seen me too elate , Hear me not ; but if calmly I have borne Good ...
Page 83
... hast thou done , That vow hath saved more heads than one : But blench not thou - thy simplest tress Claims more from me than tenderness ; I would not wrong the slenderest hair That clusters round thy forehead fair , For all the ...
... hast thou done , That vow hath saved more heads than one : But blench not thou - thy simplest tress Claims more from me than tenderness ; I would not wrong the slenderest hair That clusters round thy forehead fair , For all the ...
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Common terms and phrases
arms bear beauty beneath better blood breast breath brow Cain chief dare dark dead death deep Doge doubt earth eyes face fair fall father fear feel fire gaze give grave half hand hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hope hour Italy Juan king knew Lady land late least leave less light live look lord Lucifer means meet mind nature ne'er never night o'er once pass past perhaps present rest rise round scarce scene seems seen slave sleep smile soul sound speak spirit sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought thousand true turn twas voice walls wave wind wish young youth
Popular passages
Page 64 - And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight : and if the freshening sea Made them a terror, 'twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.
Page 38 - 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!
Page 28 - 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 64 - The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake And monarchs tremble in their capitals, The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee and arbiter of war, — These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride or spoils of Trafalgar.
Page 38 - 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 37 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather'd 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 look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell; But hush!
Page 44 - 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 60 - I see before me the Gladiator lie : He leans upon his hand — his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his droop'd head sinks gradually low— And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder-shower; and now The arena swims around him — he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch who won.
Page 134 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom— Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar; for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard! — May none those marks efface! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
Page 64 - His steps are not upon thy paths, — thy fields Are not a spoil for him, — thou dost arise And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray And howling, to his Gods, where haply lies His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth: — there let him lay.