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ABBOT ALBEMARLE-STREET answer'd Arimanes art thou Astarte beautiful behold Beppo blood Bonnivard breath bright brow Cavalier Servente chain CHAMOIS change came o'er Chillon clay clouds cold curse dare darkness death deep desolation doth dread dream dungeon dwell earth eyes face fame fear feel forget friends gazed Geneve Giorgione glance glory grave hand hast hath heart heaven HEBREW MELODIES hour hues immortal knew Laura light live look LORD BYRON MANFRED MANUEL Mariamne mind MONODY mortal mountain ne'er never night o'er the spirit once pain PARISINA pass'd pretty woman PRISONER OF CHILLON SCENE sleep slumber smile song soul speak stars stood sunbow's sweet tears thee thine things thou art Thou canst thought throne thyself torture twas twere Twill voice WALKS IN BEAUTY walls wandering wave weep wild WITCH words youth
Page 2 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard ! — May none those marks efface ! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
Page 12 - 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...
Page 46 - 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. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
Page 16 - None lived to love me so again, And cheering from my dungeon's brink, Had brought me back to feel and think. I know not if it late were free, Or broke its cage to perch on mine, But knowing well captivity, Sweet bird! I could not wish for thine!
Page 4 - But rusted with a vile repose, For they have been a dungeon's spoil, And mine has been the fate of those To whom the goodly earth and air Are...
Page 4 - And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent ! THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
Page 16 - ... roses rear Their leaves, the earliest of the year; And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom: And oft by yon blue gushing stream Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head, And feed deep thought with many a dream, And lingering pause and lightly tread: Fond wretch! as if her step disturb'd the dead!
Page 47 - Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen; Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd; And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still...
Page 21 - With spiders I had friendship made, And watched them in their sullen trade; Had seen the mice by moonlight play — And why should I feel less than they? We were all inmates of one place, And I, the monarch of each race, Had power to kill; yet, strange to tell! In quiet we had learned to dwell. My very chains and I grew friends, So much a long communion tends To make us what we are: — even I Regained my freedom with a sigh.