The Works of Lord Byron: With His Letters and Journals, and His Life, by Thomas Moore, Esq, Tom 9J. Murray, 1832 |
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Strona v
... beneath a Picture Substitute for an Epitaph Translation of the famous Greek War Song [ AEÛTE παῖδες , & c . ] Translation of the Romaic Song [ Μπενω μες πέρι- βόλι , & c . ] Lines in the Travellers ' Book at Orchomenus On Parting ...
... beneath a Picture Substitute for an Epitaph Translation of the famous Greek War Song [ AEÛTE παῖδες , & c . ] Translation of the Romaic Song [ Μπενω μες πέρι- βόλι , & c . ] Lines in the Travellers ' Book at Orchomenus On Parting ...
Strona viii
... Leaps the live thunder ! Not from one lone cloud , But every mountain now hath found a tongue , And Jura answers , through her misty shroud , Back to the joyous Alps , who call to her aloud ! 3 LINES WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE . ( 1 )
... Leaps the live thunder ! Not from one lone cloud , But every mountain now hath found a tongue , And Jura answers , through her misty shroud , Back to the joyous Alps , who call to her aloud ! 3 LINES WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE . ( 1 )
Strona 1
With His Letters and Journals, George Gordon Byron Baron Byron, Thomas Moore John Wright. 1 3 LINES WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE . ( 1 )
With His Letters and Journals, George Gordon Byron Baron Byron, Thomas Moore John Wright. 1 3 LINES WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE . ( 1 )
Strona 3
... BENEATH A PICTURE . ( 1 ) DEAR object of defeated care ! Though now of Love and thee bereft , To reconcile me with despair , Thine image and my tears are left . " Tis said with Sorrow Time can cope ; But this I feel can ne'er be true ...
... BENEATH A PICTURE . ( 1 ) DEAR object of defeated care ! Though now of Love and thee bereft , To reconcile me with despair , Thine image and my tears are left . " Tis said with Sorrow Time can cope ; But this I feel can ne'er be true ...
Strona 8
... BENEATH WHICH LORD BYRON INSERTED THE FOLLOWING : - THE modest bard , like many a bard unknown , Rhymes on our names , but wisely hides his own ; But yet , whoe'er he be , to say no worse , His name would bring more credit than his ...
... BENEATH WHICH LORD BYRON INSERTED THE FOLLOWING : - THE modest bard , like many a bard unknown , Rhymes on our names , but wisely hides his own ; But yet , whoe'er he be , to say no worse , His name would bring more credit than his ...
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antè arms Athens bard bear beauty Behold beneath blood bosom breast bride Bride of Abydos brow canto cheek Childe Harold Conrad Corsair couplet dare dark dear death deeds dread earth fair fate fear feel foes friends gaze GEORGE ELLIS Giaffir Giaour glance Greek grief Gulnare hand hate hath hear heart heaven heroic couplet hope hour live lonely Lord Byron MOORE ne'er never night o'er once Pacha Pallas Parthenon pass'd poem poet quæ quid rhyme Romaic scarce scene seem'd Selim shore slave smile song soothe soul tale tears tell thee thine thing thou thought Turkish Twas verse voice Waltz wave wild words Zuleika ἂν ἀπὸ δὲν διὰ Ἐγὼ εἶναι εἰς ἐν καὶ κὴ μὲ νὰ σᾶς τὰ τὰς τὴν τῆς τὸ τὸν τοῦ τοὺς τῶν
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 205 - KNOW ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime...
Strona 150 - Such is the aspect of this shore; >Tis Greece, but living Greece no more So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there. Hers is the loveliness in death, That parts not quite with parting breath...
Strona 206 - Gul in her bloom? Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, And the voice of the nightingale never is mute, Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky, In colour though varied, in beauty may vie...
Strona 262 - Ours the wild life in tumult still to range From toil to rest, and joy in every change. Oh, who can tell? not thou, luxurious slave! Whose soul would sicken o'er the heaving wave; Not thou, vain lord of wantonness and ease! Whom slumber...
Strona 177 - But first, on earth as Vampire sent, Thy corse shall from its tomb be 'rent : Then ghastly haunt thy native place, And suck the blood of all thy race : There, from thy daughter, sister, wife, At midnight drain the stream of life ; Yet loathe the banquet which perforce Must feed thy livid living corse : Thy victims, ere they yet expire, Shall know the demon for their sire, As cursing thee, thou cursing them, Thy flowers are withered on the stem.
Strona 163 - Singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight 'twould win me That with music loud and long, I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome!
Strona 270 - There was a laughing Devil in his sneer, That raised emotions both of rage and fear ; And where his frown of hatred darkly fell, Hope withering fled — and Mercy sigh'd farewell...
Strona 97 - We know what we are, but we know not what we may be...
Strona 213 - Such was Zuleika — such around her shone The nameless charms unmark'd by her alone ; The light of love, the purity of grace, The mind, the Music breathing from her face, The heart whose softness harmonized the whole, And, oh ! that eye was in itself a Soul...
Strona 307 - SLOW sinks, more lovely ere his race be run, Along Morea's hills the setting sun ; Not, as in Northern climes, obscurely bright, But one unclouded blaze of living light ! O'er the hush'd deep the yellow beam he throws, Gilds the green wave, that trembles as it glows.