The Works of Lord Byron, Volume 6J. Murray, 1903 |
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Common terms and phrases
Adeline Age of Bronze Baba beauty blood Byron called Canto charm Childe Harold Compare Courland Death deem Devil Don Juan doubt Duc de Richelieu Duke e'er erased eyes fair fame feelings gazed Giaour Glory grace Gulbeyaz Haidée hath head heard heart Heaven hero honour John Byron Juan's Julia King knew Lady late least leave less Letters light looked Lord Lord Byron mind moral Muse ne'er never Newstead Abbey night nought Nouvelle Russie o'er once passed passion perhaps poem poet Poetical pretty Prince de Ligne rhyme Samian wine scarce seemed seen sigh smile soul stanza stood strange sublime Suwarrow sweet tell There's things thou thought true truth turn vide Whate'er wife William Bligh wish words young youth
Popular passages
Page 172 - Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! Our virgins dance beneath the shade — I see their glorious black eyes shine; But gazing on each glowing maid, My own the burning tear-drop laves, To think such breasts must suckle slaves. Place me on Sunium's marbled steep, Where nothing, save the waves and I, May hear our mutual murmurs sweep; There, swan-like, let me sing and die: A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine— Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!
Page 170 - And where are they? and where art thou, My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now — The heroic bosom beats no more! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine?
Page 173 - But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think...
Page 256 - By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks...
Page 171 - Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! We will not think of themes like these: It made Anacreon's song divine; He served — but served Polycrates — A tyrant: but our masters then Were still at least our countrymen.
Page 425 - A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, Dirty and dusky, but as wide as eye Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping In sight, then lost amidst the forestry Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; A huge, dun cupola, like a foolscap crown On a fool's head - and there is London Town!
Page 172 - Trust not for freedom to the Franks— They have a king who buys and sells; In native swords, and native ranks, The only hope of courage dwells: But Turkish force, and Latin fraud, Would break your shield, however broad. Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! Our virgins dance beneath the shade...
Page 171 - You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet, Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone? Of two such lessons, why forget The nobler and the manlier one?
Page 154 - He was the mildest manner'd man That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat: With such true breeding of a gentleman, You never could divine his real thought; No courtier could, and scarcely woman can Gird more deceit within a petticoat; Pity he loved adventurous life's variety, He was so great a loss to good society.
Page 170 - Must we but blush? Our fathers bled. Earth! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead! Of the three hundred grant but three To make a new Thermopylae ! What, silent still?