The poetical works of lord Byron, Volumen 3

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Página 272 - Till I have done with this new day, Which now is painful to these eyes, Which have not seen the sun so rise For years— I cannot count them o'er, I lost their long and heavy score When my last brother droop'd and died. And I lay living by his side. They chain'd us each to a column stone.
Página 11 - Bequeathed by bleeding Sire to Son, Though baffled oft is ever won. Bear witness, Greece, thy living page, Attest it many a deathless age ! While kings, in dusty darkness hid, Have left a nameless pyramid, Thy heroes, though the general doom Hath swept the column from their tomb, A mightier monument command, The mountains of their native land ! There points thy Muse to stranger's eye The graves of those that cannot die ! 'Twere long to tell, and sad to trace, Each step from splendour to disgrace...
Página 277 - He faded, and so calm and meek, So softly worn, so sweetly weak, So tearless, yet so tender, kind, And grieved for those he left behind; With all the while a cheek whose bloom Was as a mockery of the tomb, Whose tints as gently sunk away As a departing rainbow's ray; An eye of most transparent light, That almost made the dungeon bright...
Página 101 - O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free, Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, Survey our empire, and behold our home!
Página 10 - Such is the aspect of this shore; >Tis Greece, but living Greece no more So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there. Hers is the loveliness in death, That parts not quite with parting breath; But beauty with that fearful bloom, That hue which haunts it to the tomb, Expression's last receding ray, A gilded halo hovering round decay, The farewell beam of feeling past away t Spark of that flame, perchance of heavenly birth, Which gleams, but warms no more its cherished earth...
Página 271 - PRISONER OF CHILLON. MY hair is gray, but not with years, Nor grew it white In a single night, As men's have grown from sudden fears: My limbs are bow'd, though not with toil, But rusted with a vile repose, For they have been a dungeon's spoil, And mine has been the fate of those To whom the goodly earth and air Are bann'd, and barr'd — forbidden fare...
Página 279 - But knowing well captivity, Sweet bird ! I could not wish for thine ! Or if it were, in winged guise, A visitant from Paradise ; For — Heaven forgive that thought ! —the while Which made me both to weep and smile, I sometimes deem'd that it might be My brother's soul come down to me ; But then at last away it flew, And then 'twas mortal — well I knew, For he would never thus have flown, And- left me twice so doubly lone...
Página 220 - Fashion'd by long forgotten hands; Two or three columns, and many a stone, Marble and granite, with grass o'ergrown ! Out upon Time! it will leave no more Of the things to come than the things before ! Out upon Time! who for ever will leave But enough of the past for the future to grieve...
Página 136 - Salamis ! Their azure arches through the long expanse More deeply purpled meet his mellowing glance, And tenderest tints, along their summits driven, Mark his gay course, and own the hues of heaven ; Till, darkly shaded from the land and deep, Behind his Delphian cliff he sinks to sleep.
Página 277 - Whose tints as gently sunk away As a departing rainbow's ray ; An eye of most transparent light, That almost made the dungeon bright, And not a word of murmur, not A groan o'er his untimely lot, — A little talk of better days, A little hope my own to raise.

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