Conversations of Lord Byron, 1: Notes During a Residence with His Lordship at Pisa in the Years 1821 and 1822 (Google eBook)

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Henry Colburn, 1824 - 351 pages
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Page 164 - The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself; * Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, Leave not a wreck behind.
Page 134 - We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him; But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on, In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Page cii - 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!
Page ciii - Tread those reviving passions down, Unworthy manhood! unto thee Indifferent should the smile or frown Of beauty be. If thou regret'st thy youth, why live? The land of honourable death Is here: up to the field, and give Away thy breath! 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.
Page 315 - Round whose rude shaft dark ivy-tresses grew Yet dripping with the forest's noonday dew, Vibrated, as the ever-beating heart Shook the weak hand that grasped it; of that crew He came the last, neglected and apart; A herd-abandoned deer struck by the hunter's dart.
Page 133 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
Page 21 - What if thy deep and ample stream should be A mirror of my heart, where she may read The thousand thoughts I now betray to thee, Wild as thy wave, and headlong as thy speed ! What do I say a mirror of my heart...
Page 134 - ... misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him.
Page 135 - We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Page 287 - Trust not for freedom to the Franks They have a king who buys and sells; In native swords and native ranks The only hope of courage dwells: But Turkish force and Latin fraud Would break your shield, however broad.

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