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addressed affection already answer appears arrived asked beautiful believe called Canto character Childe circumstances copy course dear don't doubt early England English expressed eyes feel give hand hear heard heart honour hope hour interest Italy kind Lady late least leave less letter lines living look Lord Byron mean meet mentioned mind months MOORE morning mother MURRAY nature never night noble once opinion particular party passed passion perhaps person poem poet Pray present published Ravenna received recollect respect seems seen sent short soon speak spirit suppose sure taken tell thing thought told took town Venice verses week whole wish write written wrote young
第 34 頁 - But wild beasts of the desert shall lie there; and their houses shall be full of doleful creatures; and owls shall dwell there, and satyrs shall dance there.
第 201 頁 - So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving, And the moon be still as bright. For the sword out-wears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And Love itself have rest. Though the night was made for loving, And the day returns too soon, Yet we'll go no more a roving By the light of the moon.
第 177 頁 - The fault was not — no, nor even the misfortune, — in my ' choice' (unless in choosing at all} — for I do not believe, and I must say it, in the very dregs of all this bitter business, that there ever was a better, or even a brighter, a kinder, or a more amiable and agreeable being than Lady B. I never had, nor can have, any reproach to make her, while with me. Where there is blame, it belongs to myself; and, if I cannot redeem, I must bear it.
第 251 頁 - But all this is too late. I love you, and you love me, — at least, you say so, and act as if you did so, which last is a great consolation in all events. But /more than love you, and cannot cease to love you. " Think of me, sometimes, when the Alps and the ocean divide us, — but they never will, unless you wish it.
第 223 頁 - I am the more confirmed in this by having lately gone over some of our classics, particularly Pope, whom I tried in this way: I took Moore's poems, and my own, and some others, and went over them side by side with Pope's, and I was really astonished (I ought not to have been so) and mortified, at the ineffable distance in point of sense, learning, effect, and even imagination, passion, and invention, between the little Queen Anne's man, and us of the Lower Empire. Depend upon it, it is all Horace...
第 168 頁 - He was often melancholy — almost gloomy. When I observed him in this humour, I used either to wait till it went off of its own accord, or till some natural and easy mode occurred of leading him into conversation, when the shadows almost always left his countenance, like the mist rising from a landscape. In conversation he was very animated.
第 167 頁 - On politics, he used sometimes to express a high strain of what is now called Liberalism ; but it appeared to me that the pleasure it afforded him as a vehicle of displaying his wit and satire against individuals in office was at the bottom of this habit of thinking, rather than any real conviction of the political principles on which he talked.
第 259 頁 - ... Though in imputing to himself premeditated plagiarism, he was, of course, but jesting, it was, I am inclined to think, his practice, when engaged in the composition of any work, to excite thus his vein by the perusal of others, on the same subject or plan, from which the slightest hint caught by his imagination, as he read, was sufficient to kindle there such a train of thought as, but for that spark, had never been awakened, and of which he himself soon forgot the source.
第 344 頁 - I have received your letter. I need not say, that the extract which it contains has affected me, because it would imply a want of all feeling to have read it with indifference. Though I am not quite sure that it was intended by the writer for me, yet the date, the place where it was written, with some other circumstances which you mention, render the allusion probable.
第 7 頁 - Peel writhing under them, Byron saw and felt for the misery of his friend ; and although he knew that he was not strong enough to fight ****** with any hope of success, and that it was dangerous even to approach him, he advanced to the scene of action, and with a blush of rage, tears in his eyes, and a voice trembling between terror and indignation, asked very humbly if ****** would be pleased to tell him " how many stripes he meant to inflict ? " — " Why," returned the executioner, " you little...