PoemsAuthor, 1822 - 176 pages |
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Page 2
... spurn the outcast wanderer , But dried its tears , and bade it see in her The mother it had lost , and it should be , ( Howe'er its birth might be a mystery , ) Loved with a love as warm , as fond a care As her own children had been ...
... spurn the outcast wanderer , But dried its tears , and bade it see in her The mother it had lost , and it should be , ( Howe'er its birth might be a mystery , ) Loved with a love as warm , as fond a care As her own children had been ...
Page 25
... spurn'd at Friendship's counsels and sweet smiles , To stand amidst his own dark thoughts elate , The noble prey of misanthropic hate . If one thus gifted , thus possess'd of all That to the lot of erring man may fall ; The idol of ten ...
... spurn'd at Friendship's counsels and sweet smiles , To stand amidst his own dark thoughts elate , The noble prey of misanthropic hate . If one thus gifted , thus possess'd of all That to the lot of erring man may fall ; The idol of ten ...
Page 36
... spurn at Friendship's creed . Should fortune change and poverty intrude , Where smiling comforts all so late were view'd , Deem him no friend who with the sunny ray Of happy hours flies heartlessly away ; What though he shar'd your joy ...
... spurn at Friendship's creed . Should fortune change and poverty intrude , Where smiling comforts all so late were view'd , Deem him no friend who with the sunny ray Of happy hours flies heartlessly away ; What though he shar'd your joy ...
Page 47
... spurn me when I tell thee all My tale of undeserved and early woe . 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 ...
... spurn me when I tell thee all My tale of undeserved and early woe . 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 ...
Page 87
... spurn a resting place Whence thy familiar friends are driven out— A home not lighted with affection's ray , Nor rendered cheerful by joy's rosy smile- Then farewell Love , and Joy , and Hope- Farewell ! The Song of Passion Past . Joy to ...
... spurn a resting place Whence thy familiar friends are driven out— A home not lighted with affection's ray , Nor rendered cheerful by joy's rosy smile- Then farewell Love , and Joy , and Hope- Farewell ! The Song of Passion Past . Joy to ...
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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.