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aetion aspeet bard bchind bchold beauty beneath blood bosom breast breath brow Byron BYRON'S POEMS Calmar CANTO Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE dare dark dead dear death deeds deep dread dream dwell earth Edinburgh Review eease elaim elay elear eliffs elime elose elouds eould faee fair fame fate fear feel fieree foes gaze Giaour glanee glory grave hand hate hath heart heaven hope hour lips live Lord Lord Byron merey mortal mountains ne'er never Newstead Abbey night o'er oeean onee Parisina pass'd peaee perchanee plaee raee reelined remembranee scaree seck seem'd seen shine shore SIEGE OF CORINTH sigh silent Sinee slave sleep smile song soul spirit sueh sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought tomb traee turn'd Twas voiee wateh wave weep weleome whieh wild wind wreteh youth
Página 239 - 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.
Página 414 - Could I embody and unbosom now That which is most within me, — could I wreak My thoughts upon expression, and thus throw Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings, strong or weak, All that I would have sought, and all I seek, Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe— into one word, And that one word were Lightning, I would speak ; But as it is, I live and die unheard, With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword.
Página 543 - Soft hour ! which wakes the wish and melts the heart Of those who sail the seas, on the first day When they from their sweet friends are torn apart; Or fills with love the pilgrim on his way As the far bell of vesper makes him start, Seeming to weep the dying day's decay...
Página 291 - It seem'd like me to want a mate, But was not half so desolate, And it was come to love me when None lived to love me so again, And cheering from my dungeon's brink, Had brought me back to feel and think.
Página 352 - A few short hours, and he will rise To give the morrow birth ; And I shall hail the main and skies, But not my mother earth. Deserted is my own good hall, Its hearth is desolate ; Wild weeds are gathering on the wall, My dog howls at the gate.
Página 497 - Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain.
Página 412 - Ye stars ! which are the poetry of heaven ! If in your bright leaves we would read the fate Of men and empires, — 'tis to be forgiven, That in our aspirations to be great, Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, And claim a kindred with you ; for ye are A beauty and a mystery, and create In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star.
Página 502 - Because it reminds me of thine ; And when winds are at war with the ocean, As the breasts I believed in with me, If their billows excite an emotion, It is that they bear me from thee.