The works of the rt. hon. lord Byron, Volumen 5

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Página 245 - These scenes, their story not unknown, Arise, and make again your own ; Snatch from the ashes of your sires The embers of their former fires ; And he who in the strife expires Will add to theirs a name of fear That Tyranny shall quake to hear, And leave his sons a hope, a fame, They too will rather die than shame : For Freedom's battle once begun, Bequeathed by bleeding sire to son. Though baffled oft is ever won.
Página 242 - For there — the Rose o'er crag or vale, Sultana of the Nightingale, The maid for whom his melody, His thousand songs are heard on high, Blooms blushing to her lover's tale...
Página 244 - 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 254 - The sting she nourished for her foes, Whose venom never yet was vain, Gives but one pang, and cures all pain, And darts into her desperate brain...
Página 8 - Which kiss'd it like a wine-cup, rising o'er The waves as they arose, and prouder still The loftier they uplifted me; and oft, In wantonness of spirit, plunging down Into their green and glassy gulfs, and making My way to shells and sea-weed...
Página 245 - 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 ! 'Tvvere long to tell, and sad to trace, Each step from splendour to disgrace...
Página 254 - Invites the young pursuer near, And leads him on from flower to flower A weary chase and wasted hour, Then leaves him, as it soars on high, With panting heart and tearful eye : So Beauty lures the full-grown child, With hue as bright, and wing as wild ; A chase of idle hopes and fears, Begun in folly, closed in tears.
Página 243 - The last of danger and distress; (Before Decay's effacing fingers Have swept the lines where beauty lingers...
Página 8 - How many a time have I Cloven with arm still lustier, breast more daring, The wave all roughen'd ; with a swimmer's stroke Flinging the billows back from my drench'd hair, And laughing from my lip the audacious brine, Which kiss'd it like a wine-cup, rising o'er The waves as they arose, and prouder still The loftier they uplifted me...
Página 268 - Dark and unearthly is the scowl That glares beneath his dusky cowl : The flash of that dilating eye Reveals too much of times gone by...

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