PoemsAuthor, 1822 - 176 pages |
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Page 27
... tortures try ? Grant ev❜n the many faithless - should the rest- Who still are pure - be shunn'd , or at the best Be doubted , lest suspicion's wakeful eye Some cause for fear hereafter should espy ? C2 But what are Friendship's limits ...
... tortures try ? Grant ev❜n the many faithless - should the rest- Who still are pure - be shunn'd , or at the best Be doubted , lest suspicion's wakeful eye Some cause for fear hereafter should espy ? C2 But what are Friendship's limits ...
Page 55
... tortures on me now ; and they Who suffered from the acts which then I wrought , Are blest and happy yet , whate'er their woes- More blest than I ! -their bitterest griefs are nought Compared with pangs that rack me night and day ...
... tortures on me now ; and they Who suffered from the acts which then I wrought , Are blest and happy yet , whate'er their woes- More blest than I ! -their bitterest griefs are nought Compared with pangs that rack me night and day ...
Page 58
... tortures which the memory Of my unequalled villainy inflicts , Despite the just cause which thou hast for wrath , And hatred , and revenge , I feel that thou— Dear Conrade ! would'st forgive and pity me ! EVERARD , Once more , my lord ...
... tortures which the memory Of my unequalled villainy inflicts , Despite the just cause which thou hast for wrath , And hatred , and revenge , I feel that thou— Dear Conrade ! would'st forgive and pity me ! EVERARD , Once more , my lord ...
Page 93
... tortures of thy shattered heart , And drive thy barbarous foes back to their bestial lair ? Damp not the ardent hope of every breast That sympathizes with the just and free— Like Romans for your sacred rights contest , Henceforth , like ...
... tortures of thy shattered heart , And drive thy barbarous foes back to their bestial lair ? Damp not the ardent hope of every breast That sympathizes with the just and free— Like Romans for your sacred rights contest , Henceforth , like ...
Page 115
... tortures by which ye were riven ! — No longer with fond hopes elate- The faith that thus cheered us departed ; O , why should we mourn the low state Of pretenders thus base and mean - hearted ! Fallen - fallen for ever are they Who once ...
... tortures by which ye were riven ! — No longer with fond hopes elate- The faith that thus cheered us departed ; O , why should we mourn the low state Of pretenders thus base and mean - hearted ! Fallen - fallen for ever are they Who once ...
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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.