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admiration Amy Robsart appears Atts ballad beauty BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE Byron called character church cloud Cockney Countess of Leicester dark daughter death deep delight effect England English Erisso eyes fair favour feeling French gazed gentleman give glory grace hand head heard heart heaven honour human interest Italian Italy John lady late Lisbon living Lockhart London LONDON MAGAZINE look Lord Lord Byron MAGAZINE manner ment merchant mind Mohocks Naples nature ness never night noble o'er observed passion Pericles person Petrarch Phidias play poem poet poetical poetry present racter reader Royal Saint Bees Saint Mark scene Scott seems shallop sion Skiddaw song soul spirit sweet taste thee ther thing thou thought tion Titian Venetian Venice voice William writer young
Page 606 - My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
Page 334 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid ; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it ! My part of death, no one so true Did share it.
Page 63 - He scarce had ceased, when the superior fiend Was moving toward the shore: his ponderous shield, Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, Behind him cast; the broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views, At evening, from the top of Fesole, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe.
Page 492 - There children dwell who know no parents' care; Parents, who know no children's love, dwell there! Heart-broken matrons on their joyless bed, Forsaken wives, and mothers never wed; Dejected widows with unheeded tears, And crippled age with more than childhood fears; The lame, the blind, and, far the happiest they! The moping idiot and the madman gay.
Page 334 - The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chant it ; it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.
Page 606 - That light we see is burning in my hall ; how far that little candle throws its beams, so shines a good deed in a naughty world...
Page 490 - Which neither groves nor happy valleys boast; Where other cares than those the Muse relates, And other shepherds dwell with other mates; By such examples taught, I paint the Cot, As Truth will paint it, and as Bards will not...
Page 60 - The moon is up, and yet it is not night — Sunset divides the sky with her — a sea Of glory streams along the Alpine height Of blue Friuli's mountains ; Heaven is free From clouds, but of all colours seems to be Melted to one vast Iris of the West, Where the Day joins the past Eternity ; While, on the other hand, meek Dian's crest Floats through the azure air — an island of the blest ! XXVIII.
Page 319 - A million torches lighted by thy hand Wander unwearied through the blue abyss : They own thy power, accomplish thy command. All gay with life, all eloquent with bliss, What shall we call them ? Piles of crystal light, A glorious company of golden streams, Lamps of celestial ether burning bright, Suns lighting systems with their joyous beams ? But thou to these art as the noon to night.