The complete works of lord Byron with a biogr. and critical notice by J. W. Lake (Google eBook)

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1825
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Page 382 - Appals the gazing mourner's heart, As if to him it could impart The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon ; Yes, but for these, and these alone, Some moments, ay, one treacherous hour, He still might doubt the tyrant's power ; So fair, so calm, so softly seal'd, The first, last look by death reveal'd...
Page 15 - But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we, Half dust, half deity, alike unfit To sink or soar, with our mix'd essence make A conflict of its elements, and breathe The breath of degradation and of pride, Contending with low wants and lofty will, Till our mortality predominates, And men are what they name not to themselves, And trust not to each other.
Page 311 - I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet South, And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in, That not a single accent seems uncouth, Like our harsh northern whistling, grunting guttural, Which we're obliged to hiss, and spit, and sputter all.
Page 64 - There were giants in the earth in those days ; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown.
Page 404 - But first, on earth as Vampire sent, Thy corse shall from its tomb be rent ; Then ghastly haunt thy native place, And suck the blood of all thy race, There from thy daughter, sister, wife, At midnight drain the stream of life ; Yet loathe the banquet which perforce Must feed thy livid living corse ; Thy victims ere they yet expire , Shall know the dsemon for their sire, As cursing thee, thou cursing them, Thy flowers are wither'd on the stem.
Page 56 - Caesars' palace came The owl's long cry, and, interruptedly, Of distant sentinels the fitful song Begun and died upon the gentle wind. Some cypresses beyond the time-worn breach Appeared to skirt the horizon ; yet they stood Within a bow-shot.
Page 62 - A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, Dirty and dusky, but as wide as eye Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping In sight, then lost amidst the forestry Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; A huge, dun cupola, like a foolscap crown On a fool's head - and there is London Town!
Page 56 - Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome ; The trees which grew along the broken arches Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars Shone through the rents of ruin ; from afar The watch-dog bayed beyond the Tiber ; and More near from out the Caesars...
Page 40 - I do bear This punishment for both that thou wilt be One of the blessed and that I shall die ; For hitherto all hateful things conspire To bind me in existence in a life Which makes me shrink from immortality A future like the past.
Page 335 - The angels all were singing out of tune, And hoarse with having little else to do, Excepting to wind up the sun and moon, Or curb a runaway young star or two, Or wild colt of a comet, which too soon Broke out of bounds o'er the ethereal blue, Splitting some planet with its playful tail, As boats are sometimes by a wanton whale.

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