The works of the rt. hon. lord Byron, Volume 7

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Page 32 - To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.
Page 38 - Tis sweet to hear At midnight on the blue and moonlit deep The song and oar of Adria's gondolier, By distance mellow'd, o'er the waters sweep; 'Tis sweet to see the evening star appear; 'Tis sweet to listen as the night-winds creep From leaf to leaf; 'tis sweet to view on high The rainbow, based on ocean, span the sky.
Page 8 - Oh ! she was perfect, past all parallel — Of any modern female saint's comparison ; So far above the cunning powers of hell, Her guardian angel had given up his garrison ; Even her minutest motions went as well As those of the best time-piece made by Harrison ; In virtues nothing earthly could surpass her, Save thine "incomparable oil...
Page 26 - 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.
Page 58 - Man's love is of man's life a thing apart, 'Tis woman's whole existence ; man may range The court, camp, church, the vessel, and the mart ; Sword, gown, gain, glory, offer in exchange Pride, fame, ambition, to fill up his heart, And few there are whom these cannot estrange ; Men have all these resources, we but one, To love again, and be again undone.
Page 3 - I want a hero: an uncommon want, When every year and month sends forth a new one, Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant, The age discovers he is not the true one: Of such as these I should not care to vaunt, I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan — We all have seen him, in the Pantomime Sent to the devil, somewhat ere his time.
Page 23 - Ave Maria ! blessed be the hour ! The time, the clime, the spot, where I so oft Have felt that moment in its fullest power Sink o'er the earth so beautiful and soft, While swung the deep bell in the distant tower. Or the faint dying day-hymn stole aloft, And not a breath crept through the rosy air, And yet the forest leaves seem'd stirr'd with prayer.
Page 2 - Well — well, the world must turn upon its axis, And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails, And live and die, make love and pay our taxes, And as the veering wind shifts, shift our sails...
Page 27 - A quiet conscience makes one so serene! Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded That all the Apostles would have done as they did.
Page 35 - Her brow was white and low, her cheek's pure dye Like twilight rosy still with the set sun ; Short upper lip— sweet lips ! that make us sigh Ever to have seen such ; for she was one Fit for the model of a statuary, (A race of mere impostors, when all's done — I've seen much finer women, ripe and real, Than all the nonsense of their stone ideal).

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