The Poetical Works of Lord Byron, Volume 5J. Murray, 1873 |
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Page 36
... Sire of the seasons ! Monarch of the climes , And those who dwell in them ! for near or far , Our inborn spirits have a tint of thee Even as our outward aspects ; -thou dost rise , And shine , and set in glory . Fare thee well ! I ne'er ...
... Sire of the seasons ! Monarch of the climes , And those who dwell in them ! for near or far , Our inborn spirits have a tint of thee Even as our outward aspects ; -thou dost rise , And shine , and set in glory . Fare thee well ! I ne'er ...
Page 79
... sires ; and , wanting this , Better that sixty of my fourscore years Had been already where - how soon , I care not- The whole must be extinguish'd ; better that They ne'er had been , than drag me on to be The thing these arch ...
... sires ; and , wanting this , Better that sixty of my fourscore years Had been already where - how soon , I care not- The whole must be extinguish'd ; better that They ne'er had been , than drag me on to be The thing these arch ...
Page 86
... sires ; the same , Twin - named from the apostles John and Paul ; A gondola , with one oar only , will Lurk in the narrow channel which glides by . Be there . I. Ber . I will not fail . Doge . And now retire I. Ber . In the full hope ...
... sires ; the same , Twin - named from the apostles John and Paul ; A gondola , with one oar only , will Lurk in the narrow channel which glides by . Be there . I. Ber . I will not fail . Doge . And now retire I. Ber . In the full hope ...
Page 103
... sires . Cal . Our fathers did not fly from Attila Into these isles , where palaces have sprung On banks redeem'd from the rude ocean's ooze To own a thousand despots in his place . Better bow down before the Hun , and call A Tartar lord ...
... sires . Cal . Our fathers did not fly from Attila Into these isles , where palaces have sprung On banks redeem'd from the rude ocean's ooze To own a thousand despots in his place . Better bow down before the Hun , and call A Tartar lord ...
Page 106
... sires ! who died The one of toil , the other in the field , With a long race of other lineal chiefs And sages , whose great labours , wounds , and state I have inherited , -let the graves gape , Till all thine aisles be peopled with the ...
... sires ! who died The one of toil , the other in the field , With a long race of other lineal chiefs And sages , whose great labours , wounds , and state I have inherited , -let the graves gape , Till all thine aisles be peopled with the ...
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Common terms and phrases
Abbot Aholibamah Anah Arbaces Assyria aught Bactria bear beauty behold Beleses Bertram blood breath Calendaro chief clouds Council Council of Ten dare death Doge Doge of Venice dost thou doth dread ducal Duke earth Enter eternal Exeunt Exit eyes Farewell father fear feel glory Guards hath hear heart heaven honour hour immortal Irad Japh king leave Lioni live look Lord Byron Manfred Marino Faliero Michel Steno monarch mortal mountains Myrrha ne'er never night Noah noble o'er palace PANIA passion patrician peril pray prince rebels Salemenes Sardanapalus satraps SCENE Semiramis senate SFERO sire slaves soldier son of Noah soul sovereign spare speak spirit stars sword thee thine things thou art thou hast thought throne traitors Treviso unto Venice voice whate'er wilt words wouldst thou wrath
Popular passages
Page 7 - Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains ; They crown'd him long ago On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, With a diadem of snow.
Page 20 - From my youth upwards My spirit walk'd not with the souls of men, Nor look'd upon the earth with human eyes ; The thirst of their ambition was not mine, The aim of their existence was not mine ; My joys, my griefs, my passions, and my powers, Made me a stranger ; though I wore the form, I had no sympathy with breathing flesh, Nor midst the creatures of clay that girded me Was there but one who but of her anon.
Page 36 - Thou chief star ! Centre of many stars ! which mak'st our earth Endurable, and temperest the hues And hearts of all who walk within thy rays ! Sire of the seasons ! Monarch of the climes, And those who dwell in them ! for near or far, Our inborn spirits have a tint of thee Even as our outward aspects ; — thou dost rise, And shine, and set in glory. Fare thee well ! I ne'er shall see thee more. As my first glance Of love and wonder was for thee, then take My latest look...
Page 39 - Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome ; The trees which grew along the broken arches Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars Shone through the rents of ruin ; from afar The watch-dog bayed beyond the Tiber ; and More near from out the Caesars...
Page 18 - It is not noon— the Sunbow's rays still arch The torrent with the many hues of heaven, And roll the sheeted silver's waving column O'er the crag's headlong perpendicular, And fling its lines of foaming light along, And to and fro, like the pale courser's tail, The Giant steed, to be bestrode by Death, As told in the Apocalypse.
Page 17 - Myself, and thee — a peasant of the Alps, Thy humble virtues, hospitable home, And spirit patient, pious, proud and free; Thy self-respect, grafted on innocent thoughts; Thy days of health, and nights of sleep; thy toils, By danger dignified, yet guiltless; hopes Of cheerful old age and a quiet grave, With cross and garland over its green turf, And thy grandchildren's love for epitaph ; This do I see — and then I look within^ — It matters not — my soul was scorch'd already ! C.
Page 11 - And a magic voice and verse Hath baptized thee with a curse ; And a spirit of the air Hath begirt thee with a snare ; In the wind there is a voice Shall forbid thee to rejoice ; And to thee shall Night deny All the quiet of her sky ; And the day shall have a sun, Which shall make thee wish it done.
Page 36 - Most glorious orb! that wert a worship, ere The mystery of thy making was reveal'd! 10 Thou earliest minister of the Almighty, Which gladden'd, on their mountain tops, the hearts Of the Chaldean shepherds, till they pour'd Themselves in orisons! Thou material God! And representative of the Unknown — Who chose thee for his shadow!
Page 63 - Romanorum," the author of the Mysterious Mother, a tragedy of the highest order, and not a puling love-play. He is the father of the first romance and of the last tragedy in our language, and surely worthy of a higher place than any living writer, be he who he may...
Page 39 - twere anew, the gaps of centuries ; Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not, till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old...