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Adeline beautiful better blood Canto cause death deep Don Juan doubt earth eyes face fact fair fame feelings fire gazed give glory grew grow half hand hath head heard heart Heaven hope hour human Italy Juan kind knew lady land late least leave less light lived look Lord matter mean mind moral mother nature ne'er never night Note o'er once pass passion past Perhaps poor present pretty rest round scarce seems seen short smile sometimes sort soul spirit stanza stood strange sure sweet tears tell there's things thou thought thousand true truth turn twas whole wind wish women wonder young youth
Стр. 125 - Soft hour ! which wakes the wish and melts the heart Of those who sail the seas, on the first day When they from their sweet friends are torn apart ; Or fills with love the pilgrim on his way, As the far bell of vesper makes him start, Seeming to weep the dying day's decay.
Стр. 120 - The tyrant of the Chersonese Was freedom's best and bravest friend. That tyrant was Miltiades. Oh, that the present hour would lend Another despot of the kind ! Such chains as his were sure to bind.
Стр. 121 - But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think...
Стр. 119 - And where are they, and where art thou, My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now The heroic bosom beats no more! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine? ' 'Tis something, in the dearth of fame, Though...
Стр. 96 - An infant when it gazes on a light, A child the moment when it drains the breaSt, A devotee when soars the Host in sight, An Arab with a Stranger for a guest, A sailor when the prize has Struck in fight, A miser filling his moSt hoarded chest, Feel rapture; but not such true joy are reaping As they who watch o'er what they love while sleeping...
Стр. 119 - In vain— in vain: strike other chords; Fill high the cup with Samian wine! Leave battles to the Turkish hordes, And shed the blood of Scio's vine! Hark! rising to the ignoble call— How answers each bold Bacchanal!
Стр. 123 - Ave Maria ! blessed be the hour ! The time, the clime, the spot, where I so oft Have felt that moment in its fullest power Sink o'er the earth so beautiful and soft, While swung the deep bell in the distant tower. Or the faint dying day-hymn stole aloft, And not a breath crept through the rosy air, And yet the forest leaves seem'd stirr'd with prayer.
Стр. 74 - But the boy bore up long, and with a mild And patient spirit held aloof his fate ; Little he said, and now and then he smiled, As if to win a part from off the weight He saw increasing on his father's heart, With the deep deadly thought, that they must part.
Стр. 259 - All that the mind would shrink from of excesses ; All that the body perpetrates of bad ; All that we read, hear, dream, of man's distresses ; All that the devil would do if run stark mad ; All that defies the worst which pen expresses ; All by which hell is peopled, or as sad As hell — mere mortals who their power abuse — Was here (as heretofore and since) let loose.