The Works of Lord Byron: Including the Suppressed Poems ; Also a Sketch of His Life, by J. W. Lake

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J.B. Lippincott & Company, 1855 - 764 pagina's
 

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Pagina 82 - The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake And monarchs tremble in their capitals, The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee and arbiter of war,— These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride or spoils of Trafalgar.
Pagina 79 - I see before me the Gladiator lie: He leans upon his hand — his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his droop'd head sinks gradually low — And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder-shower; and now The arena swims around him! — He is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch who won.
Pagina 208 - A light broke in upon my brain, — It was the carol of a bird ; It ceased, and then it came again, The sweetest song ear ever heard, And mine was thankful till my eyes...
Pagina 58 - Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
Pagina 73 - Horribly beautiful ! but on the verge, From side to side, beneath the glittering morn, An Iris sits, amidst the infernal surge, Like Hope upon a death.bed, and, unworn Its steady dyes, while all around is torn By the distracted waters, bears serene Its brilliant hues with all their beams unshorn : Resembling, 'mid the torture of the scene, Love watching Madness with unalterable mien.
Pagina 82 - twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.
Pagina 63 - 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.
Pagina 209 - It might be months, or years, or days, I kept no count — I took no note, I had no hope my eyes to raise, And clear them of their dreary mote...
Pagina 62 - 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?
Pagina 224 - A thousand horse, and none to ride ! With flowing tail, and flying mane, Wide nostrils never...

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