Poetry of Byron |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 44
Page xvi
... light the connexion in Byron between the faults of the man and the faults of the poet . With Raphael's character Byron's sins of vul- garity and false criticism would have been impossible , just as with Raphael's art Byron's sins of ...
... light the connexion in Byron between the faults of the man and the faults of the poet . With Raphael's character Byron's sins of vul- garity and false criticism would have been impossible , just as with Raphael's art Byron's sins of ...
Page xxvii
... light that true and puissant personality , with its direct strokes , its ever - welling force , its satire , its energy , and its agony . This is the real Byron ; whoever stops at the theatrical preludings , does not know him . And this ...
... light that true and puissant personality , with its direct strokes , its ever - welling force , its satire , its energy , and its agony . This is the real Byron ; whoever stops at the theatrical preludings , does not know him . And this ...
Page 10
... , And where these are light Eros finds a feere ; Maidens , like moths , are ever caught by glare , And Mammon wins his ways where Seraphs might despair . Childe Harold had a mother - not forgot , Though 10 POETRY OF BYRON . ⠀
... , And where these are light Eros finds a feere ; Maidens , like moths , are ever caught by glare , And Mammon wins his ways where Seraphs might despair . Childe Harold had a mother - not forgot , Though 10 POETRY OF BYRON . ⠀
Page 17
... light , unmeaning thing That smiles with all , and weeps with none . It was not thus in days more dear , It never would have been , but thou Hast fled , and left me lonely here ; Thou'rt nothing , —all are nothing now . In vain my lyre ...
... light , unmeaning thing That smiles with all , and weeps with none . It was not thus in days more dear , It never would have been , but thou Hast fled , and left me lonely here ; Thou'rt nothing , —all are nothing now . In vain my lyre ...
Page 23
... light is thy fame ; I hear thy name spoken , And share in its shame . They name thee before me , A knell to mine ear ; A shudder comes o'er me- Why wert thou so dear ? They know not I knew thee , Who knew thee too well : Long , long ...
... light is thy fame ; I hear thy name spoken , And share in its shame . They name thee before me , A knell to mine ear ; A shudder comes o'er me- Why wert thou so dear ? They know not I knew thee , Who knew thee too well : Long , long ...
Other editions - View all
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!