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affections already answer appearance arrived asked beautiful believe called Canto character Childe circumstances copy course dear don't England English expressed eyes feel gave give gone hand hear heard heart Hobhouse hope hundred Italian Italy kind Lady late least leave less letter lines living look Lord Byron March matter mean meet mention mind months Moore morning MURRAY nature never night noble obliged once opinion party passed perhaps person poem poet Pray present probably publish Ravenna received recollect respect seems seen sent short society soon speak spirit stanzas suppose sure taken tell things Third thou thought tion told took usual Venice week whole wish write written wrote
Page 202 - To pain — it shall not be its slave. There is many a pang to pursue me : They may crush, but they shall not contemn — They may torture, but shall not subdue me — 'Tis of thee that I think— not of them.
Page 343 - Themselves in orisons ! Thou material God ! And representative of the Unknown — . Who chose thee for his shadow ! Thou chief star! Centre of many stars ! which mak'st our earth Endurable, and temperest the hues And hearts of all who walk within thy rays! Sire of the seasons! Monarch of the climes, And those who dwell in them ! for, near or far, Our inborn spirits have a tint of thee, Even as our outward aspects ; — thou dost rise, And shine, and set in glory.
Page 418 - He is a person of the most consummate genius; and capable, if he would direct his energies to such an end, of becoming the redeemer of his degraded country. But it is his weakness to be proud : he derives, from a comparison of his own extraordinary mind with the dwarfish intellects that surround him, an intense apprehension of the nothingness of human life.
Page 231 - At intervals, some bird from out the brakes Starts into voice a moment, then is still, There seems a floating whisper on the hill, But that is fancy, for the starlight dews All silently their tears of love instil. Weeping themselves away, till they infuse Deep into Nature's breast the spirit of her hues.
Page 127 - I saw him stand Before an Altar, with a gentle bride ; Her face was fair, but was not that which made The Starlight of his Boyhood ; as he stood Even at the altar, o'er his brow there came The selfsame aspect, and the quivering shock That in the antique Oratory shook His bosom in its solitude ; and then, As in that hour, a moment o'er his face...
Page 252 - And I at times have found the struggle hard, And thought of shaking off my bonds of clay : But now I fain would for a time survive, If but to see what next can well arrive.
Page 543 - Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down Over the waste of waters ; like a veil, Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail. Thus to their hopeless eyes...
Page 292 - I am glad you like it ; it is a fine indistinct piece of poetical desolation, and my favourite. I was half mad during the time of its composition, between metaphysics, mountains, lakes, love unextinguishable, thoughts unutterable, and the nightmare of my own delinquencies. I should, many a good day, have blown my brains out, but for the recollection that it would have given pleasure to my mother-in-law...
Page 252 - Perhaps the workings of defiance stir Within me - or, perhaps, a cold despair Brought on when ills habitually recur Perhaps a kinder clime, or purer air, (For even to this may change of soul refer, And with light...
Page 57 - Where may the wearied eye repose When gazing on the great; Where neither guilty glory glows, Nor despicable state ? Yes — one — the first — the last — the best— The Cincinnatus of the West, Whom envy dared not hate, Bequeathed the name of Washington, To make man blush there was but One !