The works of lord Byron, comprehending the suppressed poems, Объемы 1-2 |
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Стр. 8
... beauty charm the spectre from his prey ; Thou still had'st lived , to bless my aching sight , Thy comrade's honour , and thy friend's delight . If , yet , thy gentle spirit hover nigh The spot , where now thy mouldering ashes lie , Here ...
... beauty charm the spectre from his prey ; Thou still had'st lived , to bless my aching sight , Thy comrade's honour , and thy friend's delight . If , yet , thy gentle spirit hover nigh The spot , where now thy mouldering ashes lie , Here ...
Стр. 15
... Beauty's cheek ; Oh ! let the modest Muse some pity claim , And meet indulgence though she find not fame . Still , not for her alone we wish respect , Others appear more conscious of defect ; To night , no Veteran Roscii you behold , In ...
... Beauty's cheek ; Oh ! let the modest Muse some pity claim , And meet indulgence though she find not fame . Still , not for her alone we wish respect , Others appear more conscious of defect ; To night , no Veteran Roscii you behold , In ...
Стр. 16
... Beauty form the female shield , The sternest Censor to the fair must yield . Yet should our feeble efforts nought avail , Should , after all , our best endeavours fail ; Still , let some mercy in your bosoms live , And , if you can't ...
... Beauty form the female shield , The sternest Censor to the fair must yield . Yet should our feeble efforts nought avail , Should , after all , our best endeavours fail ; Still , let some mercy in your bosoms live , And , if you can't ...
Стр. 20
... once celestial eyes . 5 . These might the boldest sylph appal , When gleaming with meridian blaze ; Thy beauty must enrapture all , But who can dare thine ardent gaze ? 6 . ' Tis said , that Berenice's hair In 20 POEMS .
... once celestial eyes . 5 . These might the boldest sylph appal , When gleaming with meridian blaze ; Thy beauty must enrapture all , But who can dare thine ardent gaze ? 6 . ' Tis said , that Berenice's hair In 20 POEMS .
Стр. 27
... beauty , and 6 . you . Yet the day may arrive , when the mountains , once * more , Shall rise to my sight , in their mantles of snow : But while these soar above me , unchanged as before , Will Mary be there to receive me ? ah , no ...
... beauty , and 6 . you . Yet the day may arrive , when the mountains , once * more , Shall rise to my sight , in their mantles of snow : But while these soar above me , unchanged as before , Will Mary be there to receive me ? ah , no ...
Другие издания - Просмотреть все
The Works of Lord Byron, Comprehending the Suppressed Poems George Gordon Byron Недоступно для просмотра - 2015 |
The Works of Lord Byron, Comprehending the Suppressed Poems George Gordon N. Byron Недоступно для просмотра - 2018 |
The Works of Lord Byron, Comprehending the Suppressed Poems Lord George Gordon Byron, Lord Недоступно для просмотра - 2015 |
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adieu Albanian Ali Pacha Athens bards beauties Behold beneath bids blest blood boast bosom breast brow Calmar chief Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE clime dare dark dear deeds deem'd dread dream Dunciad dwell Edinburgh Review Epirus fair fame fate feel gale gaze glory glow Greece Greek hail'd hand hath heart Heaven honour hope hour land live Lochlin Lord Lord Byron lyre maid mighty mingling mortal mountain muse native ne'er never Newstead Abbey night NOTE o'er once Orla Pallas pass'd perchance poem praise rhyme rise rocks roll Romaic sacred scarce scene shade shame shore shrine sigh sleep smile song sons soothe soul Spain Stanza strain tear thee thine thou throng verse wave wild wing youth δὲν εἶναι εἰς καὶ μὲ νὰ σᾶς τὰ τὴν τὸ τὸν τῶν
Популярные отрывки
Стр. 214 - WHITE !t while life was in its spring, And thy young Muse just waved her joyous wing. The spoiler came ; and all thy promise fair, Has sought the grave, to sleep for ever there. Oh ! what a noble heart was here undone, When Science...
Стр. 235 - SLOW sinks, more lovely ere his race be run, ^ Along Morea's hills the setting sun ; Not, as in Northern climes, obscurely bright, But one unclouded blaze of living light ! O'er the hushed deep the yellow beam he throws, Gilds the green wave, that trembles as it glows.
Стр. 74 - Ancient of days ! august Athena ! where, Where are thy men of might, thy grand in soul? Gone, — glimmering through the dream of things that were : First in the race that led to glory's goal, They won, and passed away, — is this the whole?
Стр. 85 - To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er, or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean , This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Стр. 175 - And think'st thou, Scott! by vain conceit perchance, On public taste to foist thy stale romance, Though Murray with his Miller may combine To yield thy muse just half-a-crown per line? No! when the sons of song descend to trade, Their bays are sear, their former laurels fade. Let such forego the poet's sacred name, Who rack their brains for lucre, not for fame: Still for stern Mammon may they toil in vain!
Стр. 29 - Though sluggards deem it but a foolish chase, And marvel men should quit their easy chair, The toilsome way, and long, long league to trace, Oh! there is sweetness in the mountain air, And life, that bloated Ease can never hope to share.
Стр. 115 - I strode through the pine-covered glade. I sought not my home till the day's dying glory Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star ; For fancy was cheer'd by traditional story, Disclosed by the natives of dark Loch ua Garr.
Стр. 125 - What is the worst of woes that wait on age ? What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow ? To view each loved one blotted from life's page, And be alone on earth, as I am now.
Стр. 71 - I had known him ten years, the better half of his life, and the happiest part of mine. In the short space of one month I have lost her who gave me being, and most of those who had made that being tolerable.
Стр. 180 - Thus, when he tells the tale of Betty Foy, The idiot mother of 'an idiot boy'; A moon-struck, silly lad, who lost his way, And, like his bard, confounded night with day; So close on each pathetic part he dwells, And each adventure so sublimely tells, That all who view the 'idiot in his glory' Conceive the bard the hero of the story.