PoemsAuthor, 1822 - 176 pages |
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Page 43
John Watson DALBY. Count Julian . PERSONS . JULIAN . GUIDO . CONRADE . EVERARD . EVELINA , SCENE I. An Apartment in the Count's Castle . JULIAN alone . ALMIGHTY God ! I know no keener pang The heart not wholly seared can bear or know ...
John Watson DALBY. Count Julian . PERSONS . JULIAN . GUIDO . CONRADE . EVERARD . EVELINA , SCENE I. An Apartment in the Count's Castle . JULIAN alone . ALMIGHTY God ! I know no keener pang The heart not wholly seared can bear or know ...
Page 45
... Everard ! [ Turns from the window . Enter EVERARD , EVERARD . My lord . JULIAN . Go you , accompanied By others of my vassals - track the woods Some miles around , and with the watchful eye Of keen humanity and eager care , Mark well if ...
... Everard ! [ Turns from the window . Enter EVERARD , EVERARD . My lord . JULIAN . Go you , accompanied By others of my vassals - track the woods Some miles around , and with the watchful eye Of keen humanity and eager care , Mark well if ...
Page 46
... Everard and the domestics who have just brought her in . EVELINA . ( Addressing EVERARD ) Tell me beneath whose hospitable roof This wearied form reposes . ? EVERARD . Count Julian Is the high name of this proud castle's lord . EVELINA ...
... Everard and the domestics who have just brought her in . EVELINA . ( Addressing EVERARD ) Tell me beneath whose hospitable roof This wearied form reposes . ? EVERARD . Count Julian Is the high name of this proud castle's lord . EVELINA ...
Page 47
... EVERARD . Lady , I own to very many faults ; But with the cold unpardonable crime Of having turned a deaf or heedless ear To any plaint of sorrow - trust me , lady , No one can justly charge me . EVELINA . Then listen , Sir : - I must ...
... EVERARD . Lady , I own to very many faults ; But with the cold unpardonable crime Of having turned a deaf or heedless ear To any plaint of sorrow - trust me , lady , No one can justly charge me . EVELINA . Then listen , Sir : - I must ...
Page 49
... EVERARD . Dearest lady , You seem exhausted ; and ' twere best , methinks , To pause awhile ere you renew your tale . EVELINA . Good Everard , my tale is nearly done . I spoke of Julian's coldness - in the end He fled abruptly from me ...
... EVERARD . Dearest lady , You seem exhausted ; and ' twere best , methinks , To pause awhile ere you renew your tale . EVELINA . Good Everard , my tale is nearly done . I spoke of Julian's coldness - in the end He fled abruptly from me ...
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Common terms and phrases
affection's Allan Edwards aught beauty Blackwood's Magazine bless bliss bloom bosom breast bright bright eye brow caitiff calm charms cheek cheer cold CONRADE Count Julian crime dark dear death deeds deem didst doom dream dwell e'er early earth ev'n EVELINA EVERARD fair fame fate fear feel Floranthe fond fondly Forget Friendship gaze gentle gloom glowing gone grief GUIDO happy hath heart heaven HELVETIUS hope hour Italia lady leave so soon Leoline Leon life's light live lofty lonely look lord Lord Byron memory mind misanthropic Naples Napoleon ne'er o'er pain pangs passion past perchance Phocion pleasure pride proud pure rapture seek shone sigh sire smile song soothing sorrow soul spell spirit spurn sweet tale tears tell thee thine thou art thou hast thou wert thought tomb tortures truth Twas tyrant virtue wild witchery young youth
Popular passages
Page 147 - But these are deeds which should not pass away, And names that must not wither, though the Earth Forgets her empires with a just decay, The enslavers and the enslaved — their death and birth...
Page 112 - ... Tara's walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts that once beat high for praise Now feel that pulse no more. No more to chiefs and ladies bright The harp of Tara swells : The chord alone, that breaks at night, Its tale of ruin tells. Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, The only throb she gives Is when some heart indignant breaks, To show that still she lives.
Page xi - The sword he liked the best. But calm — most calm was all his face, A solemn smile was on his lips, His eyes were closed in pensive grace — A most serene eclipse ! Ye would have said some sainted sprite Had left its passionless abode, — Some man, whose prayer at morn and night Had duly risen to God. What thoughts had...
Page 150 - OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME. OH I breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade. Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid : Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed, As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head. But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps, Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps ; And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
Page xvi - ALL that's bright must fade, — The brightest still the fleetest ; All that's sweet was made, But to be lost when sweetest. Stars that shine and fall ; — The flower that drops in springing ; . These, alas ! are types of all To which our hearts are clinging.
Page 116 - FAREWELL ! — but whenever you welcome the hour, That awakens the night-song of mirth in your bower, Then think of the friend who once welcom'd it too, And forgot his own griefs to be happy with you.
Page 77 - Oh, more or less than man — in high or low, Battling with nations, flying from the field ; Now making monarchs' necks thy footstool, now More than thy meanest soldier taught to yield : An empire thou couldst crush, command, rebuild, But govern not thy pettiest passion, nor, However deeply in men's spirits...
Page 116 - To the highest top sparkle each heart and each cup, Where'er my path lies, be it gloomy or bright, My soul, happy friends, shall be with you that night; Shall join in your revels, your sports, and...
Page 139 - Who didst not change through all the past, And canst not alter now. The love where Death has set his seal, Nor age can chill, nor rival steal, Nor falsehood disavow: And, what were worse, thou canst not see Or wrong, or change, or fault in me.
Page 24 - By nature vile, ennobled but by name, Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame. Ye ! who perchance behold this simple urn, Pass on— it honours none you wish to mourn : To mark a friend's remains these stones arise ; I never knew but one, — and here he lies.