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Página 273 - 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 103 - 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 ! These are our realms, no limits to their sway— Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.
Página 269 - ETERNAL spirit of the chainless mind ! Brightest in dungeons, Liberty, thou art ! For there thy habitation is the heart, — The heart which love of thee alone can bind ; And when thy sons to fetters are consigned, — To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind.
Página 138 - 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 138 - O'er the hush'd deep the yellow beam he throws Gilds the green wave, that trembles as it glows. On old /Egina's rock, and Idra's isle, The god of gladness sheds his parting smile; O'er his own regions lingering, loves to shine, Though there his altars are no more divine.
Página 7 - Knolles,'* he said at Missolonghi, a few weeks before his death, " was one of the first books that gave me pleasure when a child ; and I believe it had much influence on my future wishes to visit the Levant, and gave, perhaps, the oriental colouring which is observed in my poetry.
Página 86 - Or, since that hope denied in worlds of strife, Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life ! The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray...
Página 341 - No, no ! from out the forest prance A trampling troop ; I see them come ! In one vast squadron they advance ! I strove to cry — my lips were dumb. The steeds rush on in plunging pride ; But where are they the reins to guide ? A thousand horse, and none to ride ! With flowing tail, and flying mane, Wide nostrils never stretch...
Página 333 - T was but a day he had been caught ; And snorting, with erected mane, And struggling fiercely, but in vain, In the full foam of wrath and dread To me the desert-born was led : They bound me on, that menial throng, Upon his back with many a thong ; Then loosed him with a sudden lash — Away ! — away ! — and on we dash ! Torrents less rapid and less rash.