The Works of George Byron: With His Letters and Journals, and His Life, Volumen 7 |
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Página xi
... Adieu Damætas 69 57 59 · 61 ུ ཎྞ 61 To Marion To a Lady who presented to the Author a Lock of Hair braided with his own Oscar of Alva . A Tale The Episode of Nisus and Euryalus Translation from the Medea of Euripides [ ' EpWTES ὑπερ μεν ...
... Adieu Damætas 69 57 59 · 61 ུ ཎྞ 61 To Marion To a Lady who presented to the Author a Lock of Hair braided with his own Oscar of Alva . A Tale The Episode of Nisus and Euryalus Translation from the Medea of Euripides [ ' EpWTES ὑπερ μεν ...
Página xiii
... Adieu . Written under the Impression that the Author would soon die [ Now first published . ] To a vain Lady [ Now first published . ] To Anne [ Now first published . ] To the same [ Now first published . ] - 188 - 195 · 199 201 202 To ...
... Adieu . Written under the Impression that the Author would soon die [ Now first published . ] To a vain Lady [ Now first published . ] To Anne [ Now first published . ] To the same [ Now first published . ] - 188 - 195 · 199 201 202 To ...
Página 18
... adieu ! Abroad , or at home , your remembrance imparting New courage , he'll think upon glory and you . Though a tear dim his eye at this sad separation , ' Tis nature , not fear , that excites his regret ; Far distant he goes , with ...
... adieu ! Abroad , or at home , your remembrance imparting New courage , he'll think upon glory and you . Though a tear dim his eye at this sad separation , ' Tis nature , not fear , that excites his regret ; Far distant he goes , with ...
Página 25
... Adieu , ye chiefs renown'd in arms ! Adieu the clang of war's alarms ! To other deeds my soul is strung , And sweeter notes shall now be sung ; My harp shall all its powers reveal , To tell the tale my heart must feel ; Love , Love ...
... Adieu , ye chiefs renown'd in arms ! Adieu the clang of war's alarms ! To other deeds my soul is strung , And sweeter notes shall now be sung ; My harp shall all its powers reveal , To tell the tale my heart must feel ; Love , Love ...
Página 29
... adieu to peace . This is the deepest of our woes , For this these tears our cheeks bedew ; This is of love the final close , Oh , God ! the fondest , last adieu ! TO M. S. G. WHENE'ER I view those lips of thine , Their hue invites my ...
... adieu to peace . This is the deepest of our woes , For this these tears our cheeks bedew ; This is of love the final close , Oh , God ! the fondest , last adieu ! TO M. S. G. WHENE'ER I view those lips of thine , Their hue invites my ...
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The Works of George Byron: With His Letters and Journals, and His Life, Volume 8 Baron George Gordon Byron Byron No hay ninguna vista previa disponible - 2015 |
Términos y frases comunes
ANACREON bard beauty beneath blast bless blest bliss bosom breast Calmar Capel Lofft CATULLUS dare dark dead dear death delight dream e'en Edinburgh Review edition expire eyes fair fame fate father fear feel flame foes folly fond forget Friendship genius glory glow grave Harrow heart heaven heroes honour hope hour kiss lady lines live Lochlin Lord Byron Lord Carlisle Lord Henry Petty love's last adieu lyre Mathon mind Moore muse ne'er never Newstead Newstead Abbey night Nisus and Euryalus noble numbers o'er once Orla Oscar passion perchance poem poet praise pride Probus published remembrance rhyme rise roll satire scene shade sigh sire sleep smile song soothe soul stanzas strain sweet tears thee thine thou thought throng tomb translation truth twill verse voice wave weep wings wonted written young youth
Pasajes populares
Página 176 - And I said, Oh that I had wings like a dove ! for then would I fly away, and be at rest.
Página 294 - Oh man ! thou feeble tenant of an hour, Debased by slavery, or corrupt by power, Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust, Degraded mass of animated dust ! Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat, Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit ! By nature vile, ennobled but by name, Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame. Ye ! who perchance behold this simple urn, Pass on — it honours none you wish to mourn : To mark a friend's remains these stones arise, I never knew but one, and...
Página 319 - By that lip I long to taste; By that zone-encircled waist; By all the token-flowers that tell What words can never speak so well; By love's alternate joy and woe, Maid of Athens!
Página 239 - Who warns his friend to shake off toil and trouble, And quit his books, for fear of growing double; Who, both by precept and example, shows That prose is verse, and verse is merely prose...
Página 211 - These lips are mute, these eyes are dry ; But in my breast and in my brain, Awake the pangs that pass not by, The thought that ne'er shall sleep again. My soul nor deigns nor dares complain, Though grief and passion there rebel : I only know we loved in vain— I only feel — Farewell ! — Farewell ! 1808.
Página 229 - twill pass for wit ; Care not for feeling — pass your proper jest, And stand a critic, hated yet caress'd. And shall we own such judgment ? No : as soon Seek roses in December — ice in June ; Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff; Believe a woman or an epitaph, Or any other thing that's false, before You trust in critics, who themselves are sore ; Or yield one single thought to be misled By Jeffrey's heart, or Lambe's Boeotian head.
Página 240 - Thus, when he tells the tale of Betty Foy, The idiot mother of an idiot boy; ' A moon-struck, silly lad, who lost his way, And, like his bard, confounded night with day; So close on each pathetic part he dwells, And each adventure so sublimely tells, That all who view the ' idiot in his glory ' Conceive the bard the hero of the story.
Página 239 - Next comes the dull disciple of thy school, That mild apostate from poetic rule, The simple Wordsworth, framer of a lay As soft as evening in his favourite May, Who warns his friend 'to shake off toil and trouble, And quit his books, for fear of growing double...
Página 292 - When some proud son of man returns to earth, Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth, The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe, And storied urns record who rests below. When all is done, upon the tomb is seen, Not what he was, but what he should have been.
Página 318 - Maid of Athens, ere we part, Give, oh, give me back my heart! Or, since that has left my breast, Keep it now, and take the rest! Hear my vow before I go, Zurrí JJLOÜ, aas By those tresses unconfined, Woo'd by each /Egean wind; By those lids whose jetty fringe Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge; By those wild eyes like the roe, ZlOT) fJLOtl, CTÚC à"yaTTÔ).