PoemsRoutledge, 1859 |
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Página xxiv
... Cain , " are all himself . Almost the only exception to this is the " Prisoner of Chillon , " and it is therefore , in my opinion , the more beautiful . When his domestic differences were so blameably brought before the world , this was ...
... Cain , " are all himself . Almost the only exception to this is the " Prisoner of Chillon , " and it is therefore , in my opinion , the more beautiful . When his domestic differences were so blameably brought before the world , this was ...
Página 175
... Cain the curse and crime , In characters unworn by time : Still , ere thou dost condemn me , pause ; Not mine the act , though I the cause . Yet did he but what I had done , Had she been false to more than one . Faithless to him , he ...
... Cain the curse and crime , In characters unworn by time : Still , ere thou dost condemn me , pause ; Not mine the act , though I the cause . Yet did he but what I had done , Had she been false to more than one . Faithless to him , he ...
Página 199
... Cain ; * He watch'd me like a lion's whelp , That gnaws and yet may break his chain . My father's blood in every vein Is boiling ; but for thy dear sake No present vengeance will I take : Though here must no more remain . But first ...
... Cain ; * He watch'd me like a lion's whelp , That gnaws and yet may break his chain . My father's blood in every vein Is boiling ; but for thy dear sake No present vengeance will I take : Though here must no more remain . But first ...
Página 381
... Cain , I call upon thee ! and compel Thyself to be thy proper Hell ! And on thy head I pour the vial Which doth devote thee to this trial ; Nor to slumber , nor to die , Shall be in thy destiny ; Though thy death shall still seem near ...
... Cain , I call upon thee ! and compel Thyself to be thy proper Hell ! And on thy head I pour the vial Which doth devote thee to this trial ; Nor to slumber , nor to die , Shall be in thy destiny ; Though thy death shall still seem near ...
Página 413
... power in death can tear our names apart , As none in life could rend thee from my heart . Yes , Leonora ! it shall be our fate To be entwined for ever - but too late ! CAIN : A MYSTERY . " Now the Serpent was THE LAMENT OF TASSO . 413.
... power in death can tear our names apart , As none in life could rend thee from my heart . Yes , Leonora ! it shall be our fate To be entwined for ever - but too late ! CAIN : A MYSTERY . " Now the Serpent was THE LAMENT OF TASSO . 413.
Índice
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262 | |
291 | |
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328 | |
343 | |
358 | |
80 | |
85 | |
115 | |
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182 | |
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252 | |
Otras ediciones - Ver todo
Términos y frases comunes
Adah adieu Aholibamah Anah art thou Athens bard beautiful behold beneath blest blood bosom breast breath brow Byron Cain Calmar canst CATULLUS cheek clouds dare dark dead dear death deeds dread dream dwell earth Edinburgh Review fair falchion fame fate father fear feel fix'd foes forget gaze genius Giaour glory grave Greece grief hand hate hath heard heart heaven hope hour immortal Irad Japh lady lips live Lochlin look Lord Lord Byron Lucifer lyre mind mortal muse ne'er never Newstead Abbey night o'er once Orla Pallas pass'd passion perchance poem pride rhyme Samian wine scarce scene seem'd shore sigh sire sleep smile song soul spirit sweet tears thee thine things thou art thou hast thought throne turn'd twas twill verse voice wave weep wild wing word young youth
Pasajes populares
Página 501 - Place me on Sunium's marbled steep, Where nothing, save the waves and I, May hear our mutual murmurs sweep; There, swan-like, let me sing and die: A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine— Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!
Página 500 - What, silent still ? and silent all ? Ah ! no ;— the voices of the dead Sound like a distant torrent's fall, And answer, ' Let one living head, But one, arise, — we come, we come ! ' Tis but the living who are dumb.
Página 500 - Must we but blush? — Our fathers bled. Earth! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead ! Of the three hundred grant but three, To make a new Thermopylae!
Página 499 - Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave. A king sate on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis; And ships, by thousands, lay below, And men in nations; - all were his! He counted them at break of day And when the sun set where were they?
Página 351 - Deserved to be dearest of all : In the desert a fountain is springing, In the wide waste there still is a tree, And a bird in the solitude singing, Which speaks to my spirit of thee.
Página 512 - Ave Maria ! blessed be the hour ! The time, the clime, the spot, where I so oft Have felt that moment in its fullest power Sink o'er the earth so beautiful and soft, While swung the deep bell in the distant tower. Or the faint dying day-hymn stole aloft, And not a breath crept through the rosy air, And yet the forest leaves seem'd stirr'd with prayer.
Página 318 - THERE'S not a joy the world can give like that it takes away When the glow of early thought declines In feeling's dull decay; 'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so fast, But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be past.
Página 360 - And they were enemies: they met beside The dying embers of an altar-place Where had been heap'da mass of holy things For an unholy usage; they raked up, And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath Blew for a little life, and made a flame Which was a mockery; then they lifted up Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld Each other's aspects — saw, and shriek'd, and died — Even of their mutual hideousness they died, Unknowing who he was upon whose...
Página 339 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard ! — May none those marks efface ! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
Página 333 - Yet, oh yet, thyself deceive not; Love may sink by slow decay, But by sudden wrench, believe not Hearts can thus be torn away...