The Works of George Byron: With His Letters and Journals, and His Life, Volumen 7 |
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... productions of their illustrious bearers . With slight hopes , and some fears , I publish this first and last attempt . To the dictates of young ambition may be ascribed many actions more crimi- nal and B 4 PREFACE . 7.
... productions of their illustrious bearers . With slight hopes , and some fears , I publish this first and last attempt . To the dictates of young ambition may be ascribed many actions more crimi- nal and B 4 PREFACE . 7.
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... fear , that excites his regret ; Far distant he goes , with the same emulation , The fame of his fathers he ne'er can forget . That fame , and that memory , still will he cherish ; He vows that he ne'er will disgrace your renown : Like ...
... fear , that excites his regret ; Far distant he goes , with the same emulation , The fame of his fathers he ne'er can forget . That fame , and that memory , still will he cherish ; He vows that he ne'er will disgrace your renown : Like ...
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... fears , Parch'd to the throat my tongue adheres , My pulse beats quick , my breath heaves short , My limbs deny their slight support , Cold dews my pallid face o'erspread , With deadly languor droops my head , My ears with tingling ...
... fears , Parch'd to the throat my tongue adheres , My pulse beats quick , my breath heaves short , My limbs deny their slight support , Cold dews my pallid face o'erspread , With deadly languor droops my head , My ears with tingling ...
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... fear , no wild alarm he knew , But lightly o'er her bosom mov'd : And softly fluttering here and there , He never sought to cleave the air , But chirupp'd oft , and , free from care , Tuned to her ear his grateful strain . Now having ...
... fear , no wild alarm he knew , But lightly o'er her bosom mov'd : And softly fluttering here and there , He never sought to cleave the air , But chirupp'd oft , and , free from care , Tuned to her ear his grateful strain . Now having ...
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... fear ? " I heard his seeming artless tale , I heard his sighs upon the gale : My breast was never pity's foe , But felt for all the baby's woe . I drew the bar , and by the light Young Love , the infant , met my sight ; His bow across ...
... fear ? " I heard his seeming artless tale , I heard his sighs upon the gale : My breast was never pity's foe , But felt for all the baby's woe . I drew the bar , and by the light Young Love , the infant , met my sight ; His bow across ...
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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).