Selections from the Poetry of Lord ByronH. Holt, 1900 - 412 pages |
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Page xxiv
... sweet and sound sleep that ' knows no waking ' ? I hope I am sincere ; I was so at least on a bed of sickness in a far - distant country , when I had neither friend , nor comforter , nor hope , to sustain me . I looked to death as a ...
... sweet and sound sleep that ' knows no waking ' ? I hope I am sincere ; I was so at least on a bed of sickness in a far - distant country , when I had neither friend , nor comforter , nor hope , to sustain me . I looked to death as a ...
Page xliii
... sweet moon on the horizon's verge , The maid was on the eve of womanhood . " Or similarly , in " Mazeppa " : " She had the Asiatic eye , ... Dark as above us is the sky ; But through it stole a tender light , Like the first moonrise of ...
... sweet moon on the horizon's verge , The maid was on the eve of womanhood . " Or similarly , in " Mazeppa " : " She had the Asiatic eye , ... Dark as above us is the sky ; But through it stole a tender light , Like the first moonrise of ...
Page 14
... sweet . XL . By Heaven ! it is a splendid sight to see ( For one who hath no friend , no brother there ) Their rival scarfs of mix'd embroidery , Their various arms that glitter in the air ! What gallant war - hounds rouse them from ...
... sweet . XL . By Heaven ! it is a splendid sight to see ( For one who hath no friend , no brother there ) Their rival scarfs of mix'd embroidery , Their various arms that glitter in the air ! What gallant war - hounds rouse them from ...
Page 27
... sweet it were in concert to adore With those who made our mortal labors light ! To hear each voice we fear'd to hear no more ! Behold each mighty shade reveal'd to sight , The Bactrian , Samian sage , and all who taught the right ...
... sweet it were in concert to adore With those who made our mortal labors light ! To hear each voice we fear'd to hear no more ! Behold each mighty shade reveal'd to sight , The Bactrian , Samian sage , and all who taught the right ...
Page 33
... meet : The scene was savage , but the scene was new ; This made the ceaseless toil of travel sweet , Beat back keen winter's blast , and welcomed summer's heat . XLIV . Here the red cross , for still the CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE 33.
... meet : The scene was savage , but the scene was new ; This made the ceaseless toil of travel sweet , Beat back keen winter's blast , and welcomed summer's heat . XLIV . Here the red cross , for still the CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE 33.
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Common terms and phrases
Abbot Ęschylus Alps Astarte Athens beauty behold beneath blood breast breath brow Byron Byron's note Cain canto Capitoline hill Childe Harold Chillon clouds Countess Guiccioli dark death deep Don Juan doth dread dream earth edition eternal eyes fair fame Faust feel gaze Giaour glory grave Greece hath heart heaven Hell hour human immortal Jungfrau lake land lines living Lord Lord Byron Lucifer lyric Manfred Manfred's Mazeppa mind mortal mountains nature ne'er never night o'er ocean pass'd passage passion Pausanias perhaps poem poet poet's poetic poetry Prisoner of Chillon rhyme rock sail Samian wine scene seem'd Shelley Shipwreck shore Siege of Corinth smile song soul spirit stanzas star story suggested sweet tears thee thine things thought Twas Venice verse waters wave wild wind Witch woes words Wordsworth written youth ΙΟ
Popular passages
Page 153 - twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.
Page 153 - Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests: in all time, Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm. Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving; — boundless, endless, and sublime; The image of eternity, the throne Of the Invisible: even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
Page 303 - My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone! The fire that on my bosom preys Is lone as some volcanic isle; No torch is kindled at its blaze — A funeral pile. The hope, the fear, the jealous care, The exalted portion of the pain And power of love, I cannot share, But wear the chain.
Page 128 - There is the moral of all human tales; 'Tis but the same rehearsal of the past, First Freedom, and then Glory — when that fails, Wealth, vice, corruption, — barbarism at last. And History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page...
Page 263 - 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. The Scian and the Teian muse, The hero's harp, the lover's lute, Have found the fame your shores refuse ; Their place of birth alone is mute To sounds which echo further west Than your sires'
Page 264 - And where are they? and where art thou, My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now, The heroic bosom beats no more ! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine?
Page 246 - Louder than the loud ocean, like a crash Of echoing thunder; and then all was hush'd, Save the wild wind and the remorseless dash Of billows; but at intervals there gush'd, Accompanied with a convulsive splash, A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry Of some strong swimmer in his agony.
Page 296 - She walks in beauty like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies ; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes ; Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
Page 266 - But words are things ; and a small drop of ink, Falling, like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions think...
Page 291 - These scenes, their story not unknown, Arise, and make again your own; Snatch from the ashes of your sires The embers of their former fires; And he who in the strife expires Will add to theirs a name of fear That Tyranny shall quake to hear...