The Life of Lord Byron

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H. Colburn and R. Bentley, 1830 - 372 páginas
 

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Página 128 - 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.
Página 333 - Near this spot are deposited the Remains of one, who possessed Beauty without Vanity, Strength without Insolence, Courage without Ferocity, and all the Virtues of Man, without his Vices. This praise, which would be unmeaning flattery if inscribed over human ashes, is but a just tribute to the memory of BOATSWAIN, A DOG, who was born in Newfoundland, May, 1803, and died at Newstead, Nov.
Página 200 - To fly from, need not be to hate, mankind: All are not fit with them to stir and toil, Nor is it discontent to keep the mind Deep in its fountain, lest it overboil In the hot throng...
Página 203 - My slumbers — if I slumber — are not sleep, But a continuance of enduring thought, Which then I can resist not : in my heart There is a vigil, and these eyes but close To look within ; and yet I live, and bear The aspect and the form of breathing men. But grief should be the instructor of the wise ; Sorrow is knowledge : they who know the most Must mourn the deepest o'er the fatal truth, The Tree of Knowledge is not that of Life.
Página 127 - 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!
Página 302 - Tis time this heart should be unmoved, Since others it hath ceased to move; Yet, though I cannot be beloved, Still let me love! My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone!
Página 178 - The mother of Sisera looked out at a window and cried through the lattice Why is his chariot so long in coming? why tarry the wheels of his chariots?
Página 108 - Fair Greece ! sad relic of departed worth ! Immortal, though no more; though fallen, great! Who now shall lead thy scatter'd children forth, And long accustom'd bondage uncreate? Not such thy sons who whilome did await, The hopeless warriors of a willing doom, In bleak Thermopylae's sepulchral strait— Oh ! who that gallant spirit shall resume, Leap from Eurotas' banks, and call thee from the tomb?
Página 209 - She was like me in lineaments — her eyes, Her hair, her features, all, to the very tone Even of her voice, they said were like to mine...
Página 303 - Seek out — less often sought than found — A soldier's grave, for thee the best; Then look around, and choose thy ground, And take thy rest.

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