The Works of Lord Byron: Including the Suppressed Poems. Complete in One Volume (Google eBook)

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A. and W. Galignani, 1828 - 718 pages
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Page 60 - Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valour, rolling on the foe And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low.
Page 65 - All heaven and earth are still — though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most; And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep...
Page 210 - He faded, and so calm and meek, So softly worn, so sweetly weak, So tearless, yet so tender — kind, And grieved for those he left behind; With all the while a cheek whose bloom Was as a mockery of the tomb, Whose tints as gently sunk away As a departing rainbow's ray; An eye of most transparent light, That almost made the dungeon bright, And not a word of murmur — not A groan o'er his untimely lot...
Page 64 - I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me ; and to me High mountains are a feeling, but the hum Of human cities torture...
Page 62 - The river nobly foams and flows, The charm of this enchanted ground, And all its thousand turns disclose Some fresher beauty varying round : The haughtiest breast its wish might bound Through life to dwell delighted here ; Nor could on earth a spot be found To nature and to me so dear, Could thy dear eyes in following mine Still sweeten more these banks of Rhine ! LVI. By Coblentz, on a rise of gentle ground, There is a small and simple pyramid, Crowning the summit of the verdant mound ; Beneath...
Page 238 - gin to fear that thou art past all aid From me and from my calling; yet so young, I still would— Man. Look on me! there is an order Of mortals on the earth, who do become Old in their youth, and die ere middle age, Without the violence of warlike death; Some perishing of pleasure, some of study, Some worn with toil, some of mere weariness, Some of disease, and some insanity, And some of wither'd or of broken hearts; For this last is a malady which slays More than are number'd in the lists of Fate,...
Page 62 - And peasant girls, with deep blue eyes, And hands which offer early flowers, Walk smiling o'er this paradise; Above, the frequent feudal towers Through green leaves lift their walls of gray, And many a rock which steeply lowers, And noble arch in proud decay, Look o'er this vale of vintage bowers; But one thing want these banks of Rhine, — Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine!
Page 230 - The future, till the past be gulfd in darkness, It is not of my search. — My mother Earth ! And thou fresh breaking Day, and you, ye Mountains, Why are ye beautiful ? I cannot love ye.
Page 209 - And I have felt the winter's spray Wash through the bars when winds were high And wanton in the happy sky; And then the very rock hath...
Page 66 - ... in the night: — Most glorious night! Thou wert not sent for slumber! let me be A sharer in thy fierce and far delight, — A portion of the tempest and of thee! How the lit lake shines, a phosphoric sea, And the big rain comes dancing to the earth! And now again 'tis black, — and now, the glee Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain-mirth, As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth.

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