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Стр. 119 - Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains, They crowned him long ago On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, With a diadem of snow.
Стр. 196 - Tread those reviving passions down, Unworthy manhood! — unto thee Indifferent should the smile or frown Of beauty be. If thou regret'st thy youth, why live? The land of honourable death Is here: — up to the field, and give Away thy breath! Seek out — less often sought than found — A soldier's grave, for thee the best; Then look around and choose thy ground, And take thy rest.
Стр. 51 - Near this spot Are deposited the Remains Of one Who Possessed Beauty Without Vanity, Strength without Insolence, Courage without Ferocity, And all the Virtues of Man Without his Vices. This Praise, which would be unmeaning flattery If inscribed over Human Ashes, Is but a just tribute to the Memory of "Boatswain," a Dog Who was born at Newfoundland, May, 1803, And died at Newstead Abbey Nov. 18, 1808.
Стр. 119 - The mind which is immortal makes itself Requital for its good or evil thoughts, Is its own origin of ill and end, And its own place and time...
Стр. 25 - Their praise is hymn'd by loftier harps than mine: Yet one I would select from that proud throng, Partly because they blend me with his line, And partly that I did his sire some wrong...
Стр. 61 - 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 pass'd away — is this the whole ? A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour ! The warrior's weapon and the sophist's stole Are sought in vain, and o'er each mouldering tower, Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.
Стр. 110 - A double dungeon wall and wave Have made — and like a living grave, Below the surface of the lake The dark vault lies...
Стр. 50 - 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.
Стр. 128 - He is a person of the most consummate genius, and capable, if he would direct his energies to such an end, of becoming the redeemer of his degraded country. But it is his weakness to be proud...
Стр. 177 - Thus sung, or would, or could, or should have sung, The modern Greek, in tolerable verse ; If not like Orpheus quite, when Greece was young, Yet in these times he might have done much worse His strain display'd some feeling — right or wrong ; And feeling, in a poet, is the source Of others' feeling ; but they are such liars, And take all colours — like the hands of dyers.