The works of lord Byron, comprehending the suppressed poems, Volúmenes 1-2 |
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Página 55
... chords would break . 79 . No lyre of fame , no hallow'd verse , Shall sound his glories high in air , A dying father's bitter curse , A brother's death - groan echoes there . TO THE DUKE OF D. In looking over my papers POEMS . 55.
... chords would break . 79 . No lyre of fame , no hallow'd verse , Shall sound his glories high in air , A dying father's bitter curse , A brother's death - groan echoes there . TO THE DUKE OF D. In looking over my papers POEMS . 55.
Página 93
... verse can claim , Wafted on Time's broad pinion , yours is fame ! Ages on ages shall your fate admire ; No future day shall see your names expire ; While stands the Capitol , immortal dome ! And vanquish'd millions hail their Empress ...
... verse can claim , Wafted on Time's broad pinion , yours is fame ! Ages on ages shall your fate admire ; No future day shall see your names expire ; While stands the Capitol , immortal dome ! And vanquish'd millions hail their Empress ...
Página 102
... verse on which the critic wrote ; Vain as their honours , heavy as their Ale , Sad as their wit , and tedious as their tale , To friendship dead , though not untaught to feel , When Self and Church demand a Bigot zeal . With eager haste ...
... verse on which the critic wrote ; Vain as their honours , heavy as their Ale , Sad as their wit , and tedious as their tale , To friendship dead , though not untaught to feel , When Self and Church demand a Bigot zeal . With eager haste ...
Página 144
... verse ; For why should I the path go o'er , Which every bard has trod before ? Yet , ere yon silver lamp of night Has thrice perform'd her stated round , Has thrice retraced her path of light , And chased away the gloom profound , I ...
... verse ; For why should I the path go o'er , Which every bard has trod before ? Yet , ere yon silver lamp of night Has thrice perform'd her stated round , Has thrice retraced her path of light , And chased away the gloom profound , I ...
Página 150
... Verse 6.— " And I said , Oh ! that I had wings like a dove , then would I fly away and be at rest . " This verse also constitutes a part of the most beautiful anthem in our language . LINES WRITTEN BENEATH AN ELM IN THE CHURCHYARD OF ...
... Verse 6.— " And I said , Oh ! that I had wings like a dove , then would I fly away and be at rest . " This verse also constitutes a part of the most beautiful anthem in our language . LINES WRITTEN BENEATH AN ELM IN THE CHURCHYARD OF ...
Otras ediciones - Ver todo
The Works of Lord Byron, Comprehending the Suppressed Poems George Gordon Byron No hay ninguna vista previa disponible - 2015 |
The Works of Lord Byron, Comprehending the Suppressed Poems George Gordon N. Byron No hay ninguna vista previa disponible - 2018 |
The Works of Lord Byron, Comprehending the Suppressed Poems Lord George Gordon Byron, Lord No hay ninguna vista previa disponible - 2015 |
Términos y frases comunes
adieu Albanian Ali Pacha Athens bards beauties Behold beneath bids blest blood boast bosom breast brow Calmar chief Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE clime dare dark dear deeds deem'd dread dream Dunciad dwell Edinburgh Review Epirus fair fame fate feel gale gaze glory glow Greece Greek hail'd hand hath heart Heaven honour hope hour land live Lochlin Lord Lord Byron lyre maid mighty mingling mortal mountain muse native ne'er never Newstead Abbey night NOTE o'er once Orla Pallas pass'd perchance poem praise rhyme rise rocks roll Romaic sacred scarce scene shade shame shore shrine sigh sleep smile song sons soothe soul Spain Stanza strain tear thee thine thou throng verse wave wild wing youth δὲν εἶναι εἰς καὶ μὲ νὰ σᾶς τὰ τὴν τὸ τὸν τῶν
Pasajes populares
Página 214 - WHITE !t while life was in its spring, And thy young Muse just waved her joyous wing. The spoiler came ; and all thy promise fair, Has sought the grave, to sleep for ever there. Oh ! what a noble heart was here undone, When Science...
Página 235 - SLOW sinks, more lovely ere his race be run, ^ Along Morea's hills the setting sun ; Not, as in Northern climes, obscurely bright, But one unclouded blaze of living light ! O'er the hushed deep the yellow beam he throws, Gilds the green wave, that trembles as it glows.
Página 74 - Ancient of days ! august Athena ! where, Where are thy men of might, thy grand in soul? Gone, — glimmering through the dream of things that were : First in the race that led to glory's goal, They won, and passed away, — is this the whole?
Página 85 - To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er, or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean , This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Página 175 - And think'st thou, Scott! by vain conceit perchance, On public taste to foist thy stale romance, Though Murray with his Miller may combine To yield thy muse just half-a-crown per line? No! when the sons of song descend to trade, Their bays are sear, their former laurels fade. Let such forego the poet's sacred name, Who rack their brains for lucre, not for fame: Still for stern Mammon may they toil in vain!
Página 29 - Though sluggards deem it but a foolish chase, And marvel men should quit their easy chair, The toilsome way, and long, long league to trace, Oh! there is sweetness in the mountain air, And life, that bloated Ease can never hope to share.
Página 115 - I strode through the pine-covered glade. I sought not my home till the day's dying glory Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star ; For fancy was cheer'd by traditional story, Disclosed by the natives of dark Loch ua Garr.
Página 125 - What is the worst of woes that wait on age ? What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow ? To view each loved one blotted from life's page, And be alone on earth, as I am now.
Página 71 - I had known him ten years, the better half of his life, and the happiest part of mine. In the short space of one month I have lost her who gave me being, and most of those who had made that being tolerable.
Página 180 - 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.