The Life, Letters and Journals of Lord Byron: Complete in One Volume

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John Murray, 1844 - 735 pagine
 

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Pagina 243 - Where may the wearied eye repose When gazing on the great; Where neither guilty glory glows, Nor despicable state ? Yes — one — the first — the last — the best— The Cincinnatus of the West, Whom envy dared not hate, Bequeathed the name of Washington, To make man blush there was but One !
Pagina 302 - 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 335 - So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving And the moon be still as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And Love itself have rest. Though the night was made for loving, And the day returns too soon, Yet we'll go no more a roving By the light of the moon.
Pagina 464 - Leaf,' and Imagination droops her pinion, And the sad truth which hovers o'er my desk Turns what was once romantic to burlesque. And if I laugh at any mortal thing, Tis that I may not weep...
Pagina 315 - Though thy slumber may be deep Yet thy spirit shall not sleep; There are shades which will not vanish, There are thoughts thou canst not banish; By a power to thee unknown, Thou canst never be alone; Thou art wrapt as with a shroud, Thou art gather'd in a cloud; And for ever shalt thou dwell In the spirit of this spell.
Pagina 150 - 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 299 - 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.
Pagina 317 - I feel almost at times as I have felt In happy childhood ; trees and flowers and brooks Which do remember me of where I dwelt Ere my young mind was sacrificed to books, Come as of yore upon me, and can melt My heart with recognition of their looks...
Pagina 266 - As in that hour, a moment o'er his face The tablet of unutterable thoughts Was traced, — and then it faded as it came ; And he stood calm and quiet, and he spoke The fitting vows...
Pagina 159 - ... he preferred you to every bard past and present, and asked which of your works pleased me most. It was a difficult question. I answered, I thought the

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