The Works of Lord Byron: With His Letters and Journals,, Volume 8John Murray, 1833 |
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Page 10
... sigh , Could I to thee be ever more than friend : This much , dear maid , accord ; nor question why To one so young my strain I would commend , But bid me with my wreath one matchless lily blend . Such is thy name with this my verse ...
... sigh , Could I to thee be ever more than friend : This much , dear maid , accord ; nor question why To one so young my strain I would commend , But bid me with my wreath one matchless lily blend . Such is thy name with this my verse ...
Page 9
... sighs but to have only dream'd , Hath aught like thee in truth or fancy seem'd : Nor , having seen thee , shall I vainly seek To paint those charms which varied as they beam'd- To such as see thee not my words were weak ; To those who ...
... sighs but to have only dream'd , Hath aught like thee in truth or fancy seem'd : Nor , having seen thee , shall I vainly seek To paint those charms which varied as they beam'd- To such as see thee not my words were weak ; To those who ...
Page 10
... sigh , Could I to thee be ever more than friend : This much , dear maid , accord ; nor question why To one so young my strain I would commend , But bid me with my wreath one matchless lily blend . Such is thy name with this my verse ...
... sigh , Could I to thee be ever more than friend : This much , dear maid , accord ; nor question why To one so young my strain I would commend , But bid me with my wreath one matchless lily blend . Such is thy name with this my verse ...
Page 11
... sigh'd o'er Delphi's long deserted shrine , ( 1 ) Where , save that feeble fountain , all is still ; Nor mote my shell awake the weary Nine To grace so plain a tale — this lowly lay of mine . ( 1 ) The little village of Castri stands ...
... sigh'd o'er Delphi's long deserted shrine , ( 1 ) Where , save that feeble fountain , all is still ; Nor mote my shell awake the weary Nine To grace so plain a tale — this lowly lay of mine . ( 1 ) The little village of Castri stands ...
Page 13
... sigh'd to many though he loved but one , ( 1 ) And that loved one , alas ! could ne'er be his . Ah , happy she ! to ' scape from him whose kiss Had been pollution unto aught so chaste ; Who soon had left her charms for vulgar bliss ...
... sigh'd to many though he loved but one , ( 1 ) And that loved one , alas ! could ne'er be his . Ah , happy she ! to ' scape from him whose kiss Had been pollution unto aught so chaste ; Who soon had left her charms for vulgar bliss ...
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Common terms and phrases
Albanians Ali Pacha amongst ancient Ariosto Athens beauty behold beneath blood Boccaccio bosom breast breath brow Cæsar called Canto charms Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE church Cicero Constantinople dark death deem'd deep doth dust earth Egeria fair fame feel Ficus Ruminalis Florence foes French gaze glory gondoliers Greece Greek hand hath heart Heaven hills Historical Notes Hobhouse honour hope hour immortal Italian Italy Julius Cæsar lake land less light live Lord Byron maid mind mortal mountains ne'er never o'er once Pacha palace pass passion Petrarch plain poet Pouqueville rock Roman Rome ruins says scene seems seen shore sigh smile song soul spirit spot Stanza Tasso tears temple thee thine things thou thought tomb traveller Turks valley Venetians Venice VIII walls waves wild woes wolf words
Popular passages
Page 142 - Cameron's gathering' rose! The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes: How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers With the fierce native daring which instils The stirring memory of a thousand years, And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears!
Page 142 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, - alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass...
Page 264 - The armaments which thunder-strike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, And monarchs tremble in their capitals ; The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make « Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war ; These are thy toys, and as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.
Page 172 - Oh night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman ! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder...
Page 263 - His steps are not upon thy paths— thy fields Are not a spoil for him— thou dost arise And shake him from thee ; the vile strength he wields For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray And howling, to his Gods, where haply lies His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth — there let him lay.
Page 193 - She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean, Rising with her tiara of proud towers At airy distance, with majestic motion, A ruler of the waters and their powers...
Page 169 - 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 I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved. LXXXVl. It is the hush of night...
Page 225 - Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now; The very sepulchres lie tenantless Of their heroic dwellers : dost thou flow, Old Tiber ! through a marble wilderness ? Rise, with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress ! LXXX.
Page 157 - Adieu to thee, fair Rhine! How long delighted The stranger fain would linger on his way! Thine is a scene alike where souls united Or lonely Contemplation thus might stray; And could the ceaseless vultures cease to prey On self-condemning bosoms, it were here, Where Nature, nor too sombre nor too gay, Wild, but not rude, awful, yet not austere, Is to the mellow Earth as Autumn to the year.
Page 262 - Ye Elements ! — in whose ennobling stir I feel myself exalted —Can ye not Accord me such a being ? Do I err In deeming such inhabit many a spot? Though with them to converse can rarely be our lot.