Poetry of Byron |
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Page xxx
... break - up of the old order comes , as the English middle - class slowly awakens from its intellectual sleep of two centuries , as our actual present world , to which this sleep has condemned us , shows itself more clearly , our world ...
... break - up of the old order comes , as the English middle - class slowly awakens from its intellectual sleep of two centuries , as our actual present world , to which this sleep has condemned us , shows itself more clearly , our world ...
Page 5
... break ; But when the unconscious infant smiled , I kiss'd it for its mother's sake . I kiss'd it , and repressed my sighs Its father in its face to see ; But then it had its mother's eyes , And they were all to love and me . Mary ...
... break ; But when the unconscious infant smiled , I kiss'd it for its mother's sake . I kiss'd it , and repressed my sighs Its father in its face to see ; But then it had its mother's eyes , And they were all to love and me . Mary ...
Page 11
... break the heart they fondly hope to heal . His house , his home , his heritage , his lands , The laughing dames in whom he did delight , Whose large blue eyes , fair locks , and snowy hands , Might shake the saintship of an anchorite ...
... break the heart they fondly hope to heal . His house , his home , his heritage , his lands , The laughing dames in whom he did delight , Whose large blue eyes , fair locks , and snowy hands , Might shake the saintship of an anchorite ...
Page 18
... break the heart to which thou'rt press'd ! Time tempers love , but not removes , More hallow'd when its hope is fled : Oh ! what are thousand living loves To that which cannot quit the dead ? EUTHANASIA . WHEN Time , or soon or late ...
... break the heart to which thou'rt press'd ! Time tempers love , but not removes , More hallow'd when its hope is fled : Oh ! what are thousand living loves To that which cannot quit the dead ? EUTHANASIA . WHEN Time , or soon or late ...
Page 28
... break the link That keeps us from yon heaven which woos us to its brink . But in Man's dwellings he became a thing Restless and worn , and stern and wearisome , Droop'd as a wild - born falcon with clipt wing , To whom the boundless air ...
... break the link That keeps us from yon heaven which woos us to its brink . But in Man's dwellings he became a thing Restless and worn , and stern and wearisome , Droop'd as a wild - born falcon with clipt wing , To whom the boundless air ...
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Common terms and phrases
Adah Arqua art thou ASTARTE bear beautiful behold beneath blood blue breast breath brow Byron Cain Canto charm cheek CHILDE HAROLD clime clouds cold Crown 8vo dare dark dead death deep DON JUAN dost dread dream dwell earth eyes fcap fear feel foam gaze gentle Giaour glory Goethe grave hand hath heart heaven heaving hour immortal isle Leopardi light limbs live lone look look'd Lucifer MANFRED MATTHEW ARNOLD mortal mountains ne'er never night o'er PARISINA pass'd Philistinism Poems poet poetic poetry roll'd rose round Samian wine seem'd seen shore SIEGE OF CORINTH sigh slave smile soul spirit Stanzas star steed stood Stopford Brooke sweet tears thee thine things thou art thou hast thought throne tomb turn'd twas Twere Venice voice waters wave weep wild wind Wordsworth youth
Popular passages
Page 95 - 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 65 - The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece ! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung ! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set.
Page 50 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Page 44 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined and unknown.
Page 93 - 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...
Page xxviii - Were with his heart, and that was far away ; He recked not of the life he lost, nor prize ; But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother, — he, their sire, Butchered to make a Roman holiday.
Page 94 - Clear, placid Leman ! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction : once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved.
Page 104 - Fill'd with the face of heaven, which, from afar Comes down upon the waters, all its hues, From the rich sunset to the rising star, Their magical variety diffuse ; And now they change ; a paler shadow strews Its mantle o'er the mountains; parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till — 'tis gone — and all is gray.
Page xxiv - What, in ill thoughts again ? Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither : Ripeness is all : Come on.
Page 253 - 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!