The Works of Lord Byron: In Verse and Prose. Including His Letters, Journals, Etc., with a Sketch of His LifeSilas Andrus & son, 1853 - Всего страниц: 946 |
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Стр. 1
... kind connivance at my escape from ' Mrs. Byron furiosa ! ' in vain " Burgage Manor , August 29th , 1804 . eived the arms , my dear Miss Pigot , and am very " Oh ! for the pen of Ariosto to rehearse , in epic , the much obliged to you ...
... kind connivance at my escape from ' Mrs. Byron furiosa ! ' in vain " Burgage Manor , August 29th , 1804 . eived the arms , my dear Miss Pigot , and am very " Oh ! for the pen of Ariosto to rehearse , in epic , the much obliged to you ...
Стр. 16
... kind of neces- the expense of his education from your rent . LETTER XLIX . " BYRON . " TO THE HONOURABLE MRS . BYRON . DEAR MOTHER , " Malta , Sept. 15th , 1809 . sary gratis ; and , though I have been allowed to make presents to the ...
... kind of neces- the expense of his education from your rent . LETTER XLIX . " BYRON . " TO THE HONOURABLE MRS . BYRON . DEAR MOTHER , " Malta , Sept. 15th , 1809 . sary gratis ; and , though I have been allowed to make presents to the ...
Стр. 29
... kind of hysterical merriment , or rather laughter without merriment , which I can neither account for nor conquer , and yet I do not feel relieved by it ; but an indifferent person would think me in excellent spirits . We must forget ...
... kind of hysterical merriment , or rather laughter without merriment , which I can neither account for nor conquer , and yet I do not feel relieved by it ; but an indifferent person would think me in excellent spirits . We must forget ...
Стр. 34
... kind creatures , now metamorphosed into Caca- dores , ' and what not . I merely state a fact not confined to Portugal , for in Sicily and Malta we are knocked on the head at a handsome average nightly , and not a Sicilian or Maltese is ...
... kind creatures , now metamorphosed into Caca- dores , ' and what not . I merely state a fact not confined to Portugal , for in Sicily and Malta we are knocked on the head at a handsome average nightly , and not a Sicilian or Maltese is ...
Стр. 39
... kind of rage at present . drink . Is Scrope still interesting and invalid ? And Last night I saw Kemble in Coriolanus ; -he was glor how does Hinde with his cursed chymistry ? To Har - ous , and exerted himself wonderfully . By good ...
... kind of rage at present . drink . Is Scrope still interesting and invalid ? And Last night I saw Kemble in Coriolanus ; -he was glor how does Hinde with his cursed chymistry ? To Har - ous , and exerted himself wonderfully . By good ...
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Стр. 23 - The sky is changed! - and such a change! Oh night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder! Not from one lone cloud, But every mountain now hath found a tongue, And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud!
Стр. 37 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more...
Стр. 22 - Clear, placid Leman ! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction : once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved.
Стр. 23 - All heaven and earth are still — though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most ; And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep...
Стр. 18 - Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valour, rolling on the foe, And burning with high hope, shall moulder, cold and low.
Стр. 16 - Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child ! Ada ! sole daughter of my house and heart ? When last I saw thy young blue eyes, they smiled, And then we parted, — not as now we part, But with a hope. — Awaking with a start, The waters heave around me ; and on high The winds lift up their voices : I depart, Whither I know not ; but the hour's gone by, When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.
Стр. 22 - Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part Of me and of my soul, as I of them? Is not the love of these deep in my heart With a pure passion? should I not contemn All objects, if compared with these?
Стр. 23 - A sharer in thy fierce and far delight, — A portion of the tempest and of thee! How the lit lake shines, a phosphoric sea, And the big rain comes dancing to the earth ! And now again 'tis black, — and now, the glee Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain-mirth, As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth.
Стр. 15 - tis haunted, holy ground, No earth of thine is lost in vulgar mould, But one vast realm of wonder spreads around, And all the Muse's tales seem truly told, Till the sense aches with gazing to behold The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt upon: Each hill and dale, each deepening glen and wold Defies the power which crush'd thy temples gone: Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray Marathon.
Стр. 20 - And peasant girls, with deep blue eyes, And hands which offer early flowers, Walk smiling o'er this paradise ; Above, the frequent feudal towers Through green leaves lift their walls of gray, And many a rock which steeply lowers, And noble arch in proud decay, Look o'er this vale of vintage-bowers.