The Works of Lord Byron: Including the Suppressed Poems : Also a Sketch of His LifeLippincott, Grambo, 1850 - 764 pages |
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ADAH AHOLIBAMAH Ali Pacha ANAH ANGIOLINA ARBACES arms ARNOLD aught BARBARIGO bear beauty behold BELESES beneath BENINTENDE blood bosom breast breath brow CAIN CALENDARO CESAR chief dare dark dead death deeds deep DOGE dost dread earth fame father fear feel foes GABOR gaze Giaour Greece Greek hand hath hear heard heart heaven honour hope hour IDENSTEIN ISRAEL BERTUCCIO JACOPO FOSCARI JAPHET JOSEPHINE king leave less LIONI live look Lord Byron LOREDANO LUCIFER MANFRED MARINA Marino Faliero Michel Steno mortal MYRRHA ne'er never night noble Note o'er once palace PANIA pass'd Petrarch prince SALEMENES SARDANAPALUS scarce scene seem'd shore SIEGENDORF sire slave smile soul spirit Stanza STRALENHEIM stranger sword tears thee thine things thou hast thought ULRIC unto Venice voice walls wave WERNER words youth εἰς καὶ τὴν τὸ
Popular passages
Page 59 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men...
Page 211 - As then to me he seem'd to fly ; And then new tears came in my eye, And I felt troubled — and would fain I had not left my recent chain ; And when I did descend again, The darkness of my dim abode Fell on me as a heavy load ; It was as is a new-dug grave, Closing o'er one we sought to save, — And yet my glance, too much opprest, Had almost need of such a rest.
Page 49 - Look on its broken arch, its ruin'd wall, Its chambers desolate, and portals foul: Yes, this was once Ambition's airy hall, The dome of Thought, the palace of the Soul: Behold through each lack-lustre, eyeless hole, The gay recess of Wisdom and of Wit, And Passion's host, that never brook'd control: Can all saint, sage, or sophist ever writ, People this lonely tower, this tenement refit ? Well didst thou speak, Athena's wisest son ! "All that we know is, nothing can be known.
Page 64 - I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me; and to me High mountains are a feeling, but the hum Of human cities torture...
Page 84 - Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar. Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee — Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they? Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts — not so thou Unchangeable, save to thy wild waves
Page 66 - Now, where the swift Rhone cleaves his way between Heights which appear as lovers who have parted In hate, whose mining depths so intervene, That they can meet no more, though broken-hearted ; Though in their souls, which thus each other thwarted Love was the very root of the fond rage Which blighted their life's bloom, and then departed : Itself expired, but leaving them an age Of years all winters, — war within themselves to wage.
Page 210 - I took that hand which lay so still, Alas! my own was full as chill; I had not strength to stir, or strive, But felt that I was still alive — A frantic feeling, when we know That what we love shall ne'er be so. I know not why I could not die, I had no earthly hope — but faith, And that forbade a selfish death.
Page 210 - He faded, and so calm and meek, So softly worn, so sweetly weak, So tearless, yet so tender — kind, And grieved for those he left behind; With all the while a cheek whose bloom Was as a mockery of the tomb, Whose tints as gently sunk away As a departing rainbow's ray...
Page 66 - Sky, mountains, river, winds, lake, lightnings! Ye! With night, and clouds, and thunder, and a soul To make these felt and feeling, well may be Things that have made me watchful ; the far roll Of your departing voices, is the knoll Of what in me is sleepless, — if I rest. But where of ye, oh tempests ! is the goal ? Are ye like those within the human breast? Or do ye find, at length, like eagles, some high nest?
Page 84 - His steps are not upon thy paths — thy fields Are not a spoil for him — thou dost arise And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray, And howling, to his Gods, where haply lies His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth — there let him lay.