The Works of Lord Byron, Volume 4

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Page 157 - And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord...
Page 326 - Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality, And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy...
Page 338 - Thy Godlike crime was to be kind, To render with thy precepts less The sum of human wretchedness, And strengthen Man with his own mind ; But baffled as thou wert from high, Still in thy patient energy, In the endurance, and repulse Of thine impenetrable Spirit, Which Earth and Heaven could not convulse, A mighty lesson we inherit...
Page 237 - I will not ask where thou liest low, Nor gaze upon the spot; There flowers or weeds at will may grow, So I behold them not: It is enough for me to prove That what I loved, and long must love, Like common earth can rot; To me there needs no stone to tell, Tis nothing that I loved so well.
Page 288 - FARE thee well ! and if for ever, Still for ever, fare thee well : Even though unforgiving, never 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. Would that breast were bared before thee Where thy head so oft hath lain, While that placid sleep came o'er thee Which thou ne'er canst know again : . Would that breast, by thee glanced over, Every inmost thought could show ! Then thou wouldst at last discover 'Twas not well to spurn it so.
Page 286 - ... tis where the ice appears. Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract the breast, Through midnight hours that yield no more their former hope of rest; "Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruin'd turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and grey beneath.
Page 283 - It felt like the warning Of what I feel now. Thy vows are all broken, And light is thy fame : I hear thy name spoken And share in its shame. They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear; A shudder comes o'er me — Why wert thou so dear? They know not I knew thee Who knew thee too well: Long, long shall I rue thee Too deeply to tell.
Page 320 - And twined themselves among the multitude, Hissing, but stingless — they were slain for food : And War, which for a moment was no more, Did glut himself again...
Page 58 - Shall be what thou must conceal. And a magic voice and verse Hath baptized thee with a curse , And a spirit of the air Hath begirt thee with a snare ; In the wind there is a voice Shall forbid thee to rejoice , And to thee shall Night deny All the quiet of her sky ; And the day shall have a sun, Which shall make thee wish it done.
Page 281 - FAREWELL! IF EVER FONDEST PRAYER. FAREWELL I if ever fondest prayer For other's weal avail'd on high, Mine will not all be lost in air, But waft thy name beyond the sky.

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