The Giaour. The corsair. Lara. The bride of Abydos. Siege of Corinth. Parisina. The prisoners of Chillon. Beppo. Mazeppa

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Стр. 9 - 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...
Стр. 61 - O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free, Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, Survey our empire, and behold our home!
Стр. 340 - Who loved me in a human shape; And the whole earth would henceforth be A wider prison unto me...
Стр. 340 - I saw them — and they were the same, They were not changed like me in frame; I saw their thousand years of snow On high — their wide long lake below, And the blue Rhone in fullest flow...
Стр. 8 - As if to him it could impart The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon; Yes, but for these and these alone, Some moments, ay, one treacherous hour, He still might doubt the tyrant's power; So fair, so calm, so softly seal'd, The first, last look by death reveal'd ! (J) Such is the aspect of this shore; 'Tis Greece, but living Greece no more ! So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there.
Стр. 331 - I ought to do — and did my best; And each did well in his degree. The youngest, whom my father loved, Because our mother's brow was given To him, with eyes as blue as heaven — For him my soul was sorely moved.
Стр. 412 - A thousand horse, and none to ride ! With flowing tail, and flying mane, Wide nostrils never...
Стр. 103 - Salamis ! Their azure arches through the long expanse More deeply purpled meet his mellowing glance, And tenderest tints, along their summits driven, Mark his gay course, and own the hues of heaven ; Till, darkly shaded from the land and deep, Behind his Delphian cliff he sinks to sleep.
Стр. 327 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon ! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod, Until his very steps...
Стр. 339 - I could not wish for thine! Or if it were, in winged guise, A visitant from Paradise; For — Heaven forgive that thought! the while Which made me both to weep and smile; I sometimes...

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