Lord Byron's Select Works: Consisting of Cain ... Hours of Idleness; English Bards and Scotch Reviewers; with Occasional Pieces; and Life of the Author
C. Daly, 1841 - 320
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Abel Adah adieu art thou bard beautiful behold beneath blest blood bosom breast breath brother brow Cain Calmar canst Catullus cheek curse dare dark dead dear death deeds dost thou dread dream Dunciad dust dwell earth Edinburgh Review eyes fair fame farewell fate father fear feel foes friendship gentle glory glow grave Greece hail hate hath heart heaven honour hope hour immortal kiss Latian lips live Lochlin look Lord Byron lyre Mathon mind mortal muse ne'er never Newstead Abbey night numbers o'er once Orla Oscar Pallas pangs perchance poem praise race resign rhyme Samian wine scarce scene shade shalt sigh sire sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit sweet tears thee thine things thou art thou hast thought truth twas twill verse voice wave weep wilt wings youth Zillah
Strona 251 - The dew of the morning Sunk chill on my brow; It felt like the warning Of what I feel now. Thy vows are all broken, And light is thy fame: I hear thy name spoken And share in its shame. They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear; A shudder comes o'er me — Why wert thou so dear? They know not I knew thee Who knew thee too well : Long, long shall I rue thee Too deeply to tell.
Strona 271 - 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.
Strona 221 - Twas thine own genius gave the final blow, And help'd to plant the wound that laid thee low: So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, View'd his own feather on the fatal dart, And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart; Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel, He nursed the pinion which impell'd the steel; While the same plumage that had warm'd his nest . Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast.
Strona 255 - Place me on Sunium's marbled steep, Where nothing, save the waves and I, May hear our mutual murmurs sweep; There, swan-like, let me sing and die: A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine— Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!
Strona 8 - Souls who dare use their immortality — Souls who dare look the Omnipotent tyrant in His everlasting face, and tell him that His evil is not good!
Strona 138 - Shades of the dead ! have I not heard your voices Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale!" Surely the soul of the hero rejoices, And rides on the wind o'er his own Highland vale.
Strona 303 - Was as a mockery of the tomb, Whose tints as gently sunk away As a departing rainbow's ray; An eye of most transparent light, That almost made the dungeon bright, And not a word of murmur — not A groan o'er his untimely lot ! A little talk of better days, A little hope my own...
Strona 271 - 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 wither'd and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed ; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!