The Giaour

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Page 6 - These scenes, their story not unknown, Arise, and make again your own ; Snatch from the ashes of your sires The embers of their former fires ; And he who in the strife expires Will add to theirs a name of fear That Tyranny shall quake to hear...
Page 1 - Gul in her bloom? Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, And the voice of the nightingale never is mute, Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky, In colour though varied, in beauty may vie, And the purple of Ocean is deepest in dye; Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, And all, save the spirit of man, is divine? 'Tis the clime of the East; 'tis the land of the Sun— Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done ? Oh! wild as the accents of lovers...
Page 55 - Yes, Love indeed is light from heaven ; " A spark of that immortal fire " With angels shared, by Alia given, " To lift from earth our low desire. " Devotion wafts the mind above, " But Heaven itself descends in love ; " A feeling from the Godhead caught, " To wean from self each sordid thought ; " A Ray of him who form'd the whole ; " A Glory circling round the soul...
Page 2 - The exulting sense — the pulse's maddening play, That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way ? That for itself can woo the approaching fight, And turn what some deem danger to delight ; That seeks what cravens shun with more than zeal, And where the feebler faint — can only feel — Feel — to the rising bosom's inmost core, Its hope awaken and its spirit soar...
Page 58 - Oh! too convincing - dangerously dear In woman's eye the unanswerable tear That weapon of her weakness she can wield, To save, subdue at once her spear and shield: Avoid it - Virtue ebbs and Wisdom errs, Too fondly gazing on that grief of hers! What lost a world, and bade a hero fly? The timid tear in Cleopatra's eye. Yet be the soft triumvir's fault forgiven; By this - how many lose not earth - but heaven!
Page 2 - For there — the Rose o'er crag or vale, Sultana of the Nightingale, The maid for whom his melody, His thousand songs are heard on high, Blooms blushing to her lover's tale...
Page 4 - 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 25 - Sestos' daughter. Oh ! when alone along the sky Her turret-torch was blazing high, Though rising gale, and breaking foam, And shrieking sea-birds warned him home ; And clouds aloft and tides below, With signs and sounds, forbade to go, He could not see, he would not hear > Or sound or sign foreboding fear ; His eye but saw that light of love, The only star it hailed above; His ear but rang with Hero's song, " Ye waves, divide not lovers long !"— That tale is old, but Love anew May nerve young hearts...
Page 20 - He call'd on Nature's self to share the shame, And charged all faults upon the fleshly form She gave to clog the soul, and feast the worm; Till he at last confounded good and ill, And half mistook for fate the acts of will; Too high for common selfishness, he could At times resign his own for others...
Page 25 - THE winds are high on Helle's wave, As on that night of stormy water When Love, who sent, forgot to save The young, the beautiful, the brave, The lonely hope of Sestos

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