The works of lord Byron, comprehending the suppressed poems, Volumes 7-8

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Pagina 45 - The isles of Greece ! the isles of Greece ! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung!
Pagina 47 - What silent still? and silent all? Ah ! no ; — the voices of the dead Sound like a distant torrent's fall, And answer, "Let one living head, But one arise, — we come, we come!
Pagina 60 - 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;* — Is this a fancy which our reason scorns 1 Ah ! surely nothing dies but something mourns.
Pagina 50 - But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think...
Pagina 49 - Trust not for freedom to the Franks, — They have a king who buys and sells : In native swords, and native ranks, The only hope of courage dwells ; But Turkish force, and Latin fraud, Would break your shield, however broad.
Pagina 45 - Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave. A king sate on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis; And ships by thousands lay below, And men in nations; — all were his! He counted them at break of day, And when the sun set, where were they?
Pagina 46 - 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!
Pagina 54 - Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark Bay deep-mouthed welcome as we draw near home; 'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark Our coming, and look brighter when we come...
Pagina 3 - I WANT a hero: an uncommon want, When every year and month sends forth a new one Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant, The age discovers he is not the true one...
Pagina 179 - A long, long kiss, a kiss of youth, and love, And beauty, all concentrating like rays Into one focus, kindled from above; Such kisses as belong to early days, Where heart, and soul, and sense, in concert move, And the blood's lava, and the pulse a blaze, Each kiss a heart-quake, — for a kiss's strength, I think it must be reckon'd by its length.

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