The Life of Lord Byron, Volume 5
Murray, 1844 - 735 pagine
Irish poet Thomas Moore was a friend of Lord Byron's. Prior to his death, Byron entrusted his memoirs?to Moore, asking that they be published posthumously. After Byron's death?however, Moore was persuaded by Byron's family and by his publisher, John Murray,?to destroy the memoirs due to their potential revelations. Moore and Murray?burned the documents, but in 1830, six years after Byron's death, they?published a six volume "Life of Lord Byron" based on his letters and?journals. This is volume five of a later edition.
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Life of Lord Byron: With His Letters and Journals, Volume 3
Visualizzazione completa - 1851
Life of Lord Byron: With His Letters and Journals, Volume 4
Visualizzazione completa - 1851
The Life of Lord Byron: With His Letters and Journals, Volumes 1-2
Baron George Gordon Byron Byron
Anteprima non disponibile - 2015
Aberdeen acquaintance addressed afterwards Albanians Ali Pacha amusing answer appears Athens Bards beautiful believe called Cambridge canto character Chaworth Childe Harold Constantinople copy Dallas dear death Drury early Edinburgh Review England English fame fancy favour favourite feel friendship genius gentleman Giaour Greece Harrow hear heard heart Hobhouse Hodgson honour hope Lady least letter London Lord Byron Lord Carlisle Lord Holland Malta Matthews mentioned mind Miss Pigot Moore Morea mother Murray nature never Newstead Abbey noble occasion once opinion passage passion Patras perhaps person poem poet poetical poetry praise present published racter recollect rhyme Rochdale Satire scene seen sent servant Southwell spirit stanzas tell thing thou thought told town verses wish write written young youth
Pagina 308 - It was on the day, or rather night, of the 27th of June 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last lines of the last page, in a summer-house in my garden. After laying down my pen, I took several turns in a berceau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains. The air was temperate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waters, and all nature was silent.
Pagina 308 - I will not dissemble the first emotions of joy on the recovery of my freedom, and, perhaps, the establishment of my fame. But my pride was soon humbled, and a sober melancholy was spread over my mind by the idea that I had taken an everlasting leave of an old and agreeable companion, and that whatever might be the future date of my History, the life of the historian must be short and precarious.
Pagina 65 - But wild beasts of the desert shall lie there; and their houses shall be full of doleful creatures; and owls shall dwell there, and satyrs shall dance there.
Pagina 272 - I saw him stand Before an Altar, with a gentle bride ; Her face was fair, but was not that which made The Starlight of his Boyhood ; as he stood Even at the altar, o'er his brow there came The selfsame aspect, and the quivering shock That in the antique Oratory shook His bosom in its solitude ; and then, As in that hour, a moment o'er his face...
Pagina 215 - Opera), the best farce (the Critic — it is only too good for a farce), and the best Address (Monologue on Garrick), and, to crown all, delivered the very best Oration (the famous Begum Speech) ever conceived or heard in this country.
Pagina 322 - My SISTER ! my sweet sister ! if a name Dearer and purer were, it should be thine; Mountains and seas divide us, but I claim No tears, but tenderness to answer mine : Go where I will, to me thou art the same — A loved regret which I would not resign. There yet are two things in my destiny, — A world to roam through, and a home with thee.
Pagina 156 - I have traversed the seat of war in the peninsula ; I have been in some of the most oppressed provinces of Turkey; but never, under the most despotic of infidel governments, did] I behold such squalid wretchedness as I have seen since my return, in the very heart of a Christian country.
Pagina 398 - I am sure my bones would not rest in an English grave, or my clay mix with the earth of that country. I believe the thought would drive me mad on my deathbed, could I suppose that any of my friends would be base enough to convey my carcass back to your soil. I would not even feed your worms, if I could help it...
Pagina 320 - Clarens ! sweet Clarens, birthplace of deep Love ! Thine air is the young breath of passionate thought ; Thy trees take root in Love ; the snows above The very Glaciers have his colours caught, And sun-set into rose-hues sees them wrought By rays which sleep there lovingly...
Pagina 17 - The other father had a weaklier child, Of a soft cheek, and aspect delicate ; But the boy bore up long, and with a mild And patient spirit held aloof his fate ; Little he said, and now and then he smiled, As if to win a part from off the weight He saw increasing on his father's heart. With the deep deadly thought that they must part.