The Works of George Byron: With His Letters and Journals, and His Life, Volume 6 (Google eBook)

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1835
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Page 294 - That we must stand unpropped, or be laid low. O dastard whom such foretaste doth not cheer! "We shall exult, if they who rule the land Be men who hold its many blessings dear, "Wise, upright, valiant; not a servile band, Who are to judge of danger which they fear, And honour which they do not understand.
Page 372 - Twas my distress that brought thee low, My Mary! Thy needles, once a shining store, For my sake restless heretofore, Now rust, disused, and shine no more, My Mary!
Page 137 - 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! The fire that on my bosom preys, Is lone as some volcanic isle; No torch is kindled at its blaze A funeral pile!
Page 293 - Tis well ! from this day forward we shall know That in ourselves our safety must be sought ; That by our own right hands it must be wrought ; That we must stand unpropped, or be laid low.
Page 289 - Signed, sealed, published and declared by the said Testator as and for his last Will and Testament, in the presence of us, who in his presence, at his request, and in the presence of each other, have subscribed our names as witnesses...
Page 138 - 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 286 - I direct that they, my said trustees and the survivor of them, and the executors and administrators of such survivor...
Page 137 - No torch is kindled at its blaze A funeral pile. The hope, the fear, the jealous care, The exalted portion of the pain And power of love, I cannot share, But wear the chain. But 'tis not thus - and 'tis not here Such thoughts should shake my soul, nor now, Where glory decks the hero's bier, Or binds his brow. The sword, the banner, and the field, Glory and Greece, around me see ! The Spartan, borne upon his shield, Was not more free.
Page 366 - Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear More sweet than all the landscape smiling near ? 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue.
Page 13 - (to use Farquhar's phrase in the ' Beaux' Stratagem '), who has all the air of a Cupidon dechaine, and is 'one of the few specimens. I have seen of our ideal of a Frenchman before the Revolution, an old friend with a new face, upon whose like I never thought that we should look again.

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