Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Lord ByronJ. Robins and Company, 1825 - 756 pages |
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Page 68
... bosom mov'd : And softly fluttering here and there , He never sought to cleave the air , But chirup'd oft , and , free from care , Tuned to her ear his grateful strain . Now having passed the gloomy bourn , From whence he never can ...
... bosom mov'd : And softly fluttering here and there , He never sought to cleave the air , But chirup'd oft , and , free from care , Tuned to her ear his grateful strain . Now having passed the gloomy bourn , From whence he never can ...
Page 81
... bosom gored ; Lowly to earth inclines his plume - clad crest , And sanguine torrents mantle o'er his breast : As some young rose , whose blossom scents the air , Languid in death , expires beneath the share ; Or crimson poppy , sinking ...
... bosom gored ; Lowly to earth inclines his plume - clad crest , And sanguine torrents mantle o'er his breast : As some young rose , whose blossom scents the air , Languid in death , expires beneath the share ; Or crimson poppy , sinking ...
Page 106
... bosom to recall the past , And seem to whisper , as they gently swell , ' Take , while thou canst , a lingering , last , farewell ! ' When Fate shall chill , at length , this fevered breast , And calm its cares and passions into rest ...
... bosom to recall the past , And seem to whisper , as they gently swell , ' Take , while thou canst , a lingering , last , farewell ! ' When Fate shall chill , at length , this fevered breast , And calm its cares and passions into rest ...
Page 158
... bosom had , Mine own would not be dry . ' Come hither , hither , my staunch yeoman , Why dost thou look so pale ? Or dost thou dread a French foeman ? Or shiver at the gale ? ' - ' Deem'st thou I tremble for my life ? Sir 158 THE LIFE ...
... bosom had , Mine own would not be dry . ' Come hither , hither , my staunch yeoman , Why dost thou look so pale ? Or dost thou dread a French foeman ? Or shiver at the gale ? ' - ' Deem'st thou I tremble for my life ? Sir 158 THE LIFE ...
Page 160
... bosom gay ; And Cintra's mountain greets them on their way , And Tagus dashing onward to the deep , His fabled golden tribute bent to pay ; And soon on board the Lusian pilots leap , And steer ' twixt fertile shores , where yet few ...
... bosom gay ; And Cintra's mountain greets them on their way , And Tagus dashing onward to the deep , His fabled golden tribute bent to pay ; And soon on board the Lusian pilots leap , And steer ' twixt fertile shores , where yet few ...
Autres éditions - Tout afficher
Memoirs of the life and writings of lord Byron George Clinton (biographer of Byron.) Affichage du livre entier - 1825 |
Expressions et termes fréquents
Ali Pacha appeared arms beauty beneath blood bosom breast breath brow Cain called Calmar canto Cephalonia character cheek Childe Harold Countess Guiccioli dark dead death Doge Don Juan dread dream earth English eyes fair fame fate father fear feel friends gaze genius Giaour glory grave Greece Greek hand hath heart heaven honour hope hour knew lady Lady Byron Lara less live look Lord Byron Lord Carlisle lordship Mavrocordatos mind Missolonghi Morea mortal ne'er never Newstead Abbey night noble o'er occasion once pain Parisina passed passion Patras perhaps person poem poet poetry reply Samian wine Sard Sardanapalus scarce scene seemed shore Siegendorf sigh sleep smile song sorrow soul speak spirit stanzas Suliotes tears thee thine things thou thought turned twas Venice voice wave wild words young youth
Fréquemment cités
Page 558 - You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet, Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone? Of two such lessons, why forget The nobler and the manlier one?
Page 749 - Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear Compels me to disturb your season due ; For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer.
Page 400 - Oh Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery.
Page 328 - Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms - the day Battle's magnificently stern array...
Page 392 - I STOOD in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, A palace and a prison on each hand ; I saw from out the wave her structures rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand : A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles, Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles...
Page 557 - Must we but weep o'er days more blest? Must we but blush? Our fathers bled. Earth ! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead ! Of the three hundred grant but three, To make a new Thermopylae ! What, silent still?
Page 697 - My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone ; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone ! The fire that on my bosom preys Is lone as some volcanic isle ; No torch is kindled at its blaze — A funeral pile.
Page 327 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet But hark!
Page 344 - Twas still some solace in the dearth Of the pure elements of earth, To hearken to each other's speech, And each turn comforter to each, With some new hope, or legend old, Or song heroically bold ; But even these at length grew cold.
Page 348 - ... mate, But was not half so desolate, And it was come to love me when None lived to love me so again, And cheering from my dungeon's brink Had brought me back to feel and think.