Poetry of Byron, chosen by M. Arnold |
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Page xii
... head , ” — in spite of negligence , in spite of diffuseness , in spite of repetitions , in spite of whatever faults it possessed . His name is still great and brilliant . Nevertheless the hour of irre- sistible vogue has passed away for ...
... head , ” — in spite of negligence , in spite of diffuseness , in spite of repetitions , in spite of whatever faults it possessed . His name is still great and brilliant . Nevertheless the hour of irre- sistible vogue has passed away for ...
Page xiii
... head should retaliate , on such provocation as this , by saying : " He has treated hardly any subject but one , himself . " " In the very grand and tremendous drama of Cain , " says Scott , " Lord Byron has certainly matched Milton on ...
... head should retaliate , on such provocation as this , by saying : " He has treated hardly any subject but one , himself . " " In the very grand and tremendous drama of Cain , " says Scott , " Lord Byron has certainly matched Milton on ...
Page 13
... head alone ! Full swiftly blew the swift Siroc , When last I press'd thy lip ; And long ere now , with foaming shock , Impell'd thy gallant ship . Now thou art safe ; nay , long ere now Hast trod the shore of Spain ; ' Twere hard if ...
... head alone ! Full swiftly blew the swift Siroc , When last I press'd thy lip ; And long ere now , with foaming shock , Impell'd thy gallant ship . Now thou art safe ; nay , long ere now Hast trod the shore of Spain ; ' Twere hard if ...
Page 22
... head ; And show that love , however vain , Nor thou nor I can feel again . Yet how much less it were to gain , Though thou hast left me free , The loveliest things that still remain , Than thus remember thee ! The all of thine that ...
... head ; And show that love , however vain , Nor thou nor I can feel again . Yet how much less it were to gain , Though thou hast left me free , The loveliest things that still remain , Than thus remember thee ! The all of thine that ...
Page 33
... head ! And be the Spartan's epitaph on me— " " Sparta hath many a worthier son than he . " Meantime I seek no sympathies , nor need ; The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted , they have torn me , —and I bleed : I should ...
... head ! And be the Spartan's epitaph on me— " " Sparta hath many a worthier son than he . " Meantime I seek no sympathies , nor need ; The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted , they have torn me , —and I bleed : I should ...
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Common terms and phrases
Adah ASTARTE bear beautiful behold beneath blood blue breast breath bride BRIDE OF ABYDOS brow Byron Cain Canto Cast crowns cheek CHILDE HAROLD clime clouds cold Crown 8vo dare dark dead death deep DON JUAN dread earth Edition F. T. PALGRAVE fcap fear feel foam foes gaze gentle Giaour glory Goethe grave hand hath heart heaven heaving hour immortal isle knew land Leopardi light limbs live lone look look'd Lucifer MANFRED MATTHEW ARNOLD moonlight play mortal mountains ne'er never night o'er PARISINA pass'd Poems poet poetic poetry roll'd rose round Samian wine scarce seem'd seen shore sigh slave smile soul spirit Stanzas star steed stood sweet tears thee thine things thou art thou hast thought throne turn'd twas Twere voice waters wave weep wild wind Wordsworth youth
Popular passages
Page 59 - The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece ! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung ! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set.
Page 50 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Page xxviii - Were with his heart, and that was far away ; He recked not of the life he lost, nor prize ; But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother, — he, their sire, Butchered to make a Roman holiday.
Page 98 - Fill'd with the face of heaven, which, from afar Comes down upon the waters, all its hues, From the rich sunset to the rising star, Their magical variety diffuse ; And now they change ; a paler shadow strews Its mantle o'er the mountains; parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till — 'tis gone — and all is gray.
Page 60 - And where are they? and where art thou, My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now, The heroic bosom beats no more ! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine?
Page 88 - Clear, placid Leman ! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction ; once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved, That 1 with stern delights should e'er have been so moved.
Page 44 - His steps are not upon thy paths, — thy fields Are not a spoil for him, — thou dost arise And shake him from thee ; the vile strength he wields For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray And howling, to his Gods, where haply lies His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth : — there let him lay.
Page xxiv - What, in ill thoughts again ? Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither : Ripeness is all : Come on.
Page 32 - Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child ! ADA ! sole daughter of my house and heart ? When last I saw thy young blue eyes they smiled, And then we parted, — not as now we part, But with a hope. — Awaking with a start, The waters heave around me ; and on high The winds lift up their voices : I depart, Whither I know not ; but the hour's gone by, When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.
Page 98 - The moon is up, and yet it is not night — Sunset divides the sky with her — a sea Of glory streams along the Alpine height Of blue Friuli's mountains : Heaven is free From clouds, but of all colours seems to be — Melted to one vast Iris of the West, Where the Day joins the past Eternity ; While, on the other hand, meek Dian's crest Tloats through the azure air — an island of the blest ! XXVIII.