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Adah Astarte beautiful behold beneath blood blue breast breath Bride of Abydos brow Cain Canto charm cheek Childe Harold clime clouds cold dare dark dead death deep Don Juan dread dream earth eyes feel foam gaze gentle Giaour glory Goethe grave hand hath heart heaven heaving hour immortal isle knew Lady Lady Caroline Lamb land Leopardi light limbs living lone look look'd Lord Byron Lucifer Manfred mortal mother mountains Murray NATHAN HASKELL DOLE ne'er never night o'er ocean once passion poems poet poetic poetry roll'd rose round Samian wine scarce seem'd seen shalt shore Siege of Corinth sigh slave smile soul spirit Stanzas star steed stood sweet tears thee thine things thou art thou hast thought thousand throne turn'd Venice voice waters wave weep wild wind Wordsworth wrote youth
Page 50 - The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Page 82 - Greece — but living Greece no more ! So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start — for soul is wanting there. Hers is the loveliness in death, That parts not quite with parting breath; But beauty with that fearful bloom, That hue which haunts it to the tomb — Expression's last receding ray, A gilded halo hovering round decay, The farewell beam of feeling past away! Spark of that flame — perchance of heavenly birth — Which gleams, but warms no more its cherished earth!
Page 67 - You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet : Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone? Of two such lessons, why forget The nobler and the manlier one?
Page 94 - Clear, placid Leman ! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction ; once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved, That 1 with stern delights should e'er have been so moved.
Page lvii - What, in ill thoughts again ? Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither : Ripeness is all : Come on.
Page 256 - 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 32 - Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child ! Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart? When last I saw thy young blue eyes, they smiled, And then we parted, — not as now we part, But with a hope.
Page 102 - In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more, And silent rows the songless gondolier ; Her palaces are crumbling to the shore, And music meets not always now the ear : Those days are gone — but Beauty still is here. States fall, arts fade — but Nature doth not die, Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear, The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy ! IV.
Page 95 - And this is 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...
Page 214 - The stars are forth, the moon above the tops Of the snow-shining mountains. — Beautiful ! I linger yet with Nature, for the night Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man ; and in her starry shade Of dim and solitary loveliness, I learn'd the language of another world.