The works of ... lord Byron, 4±Ç |
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... Fiend's arch mock ; " He in his fall preserved his pride , And , if a mortal , had as proudly died ! NOTES . Note 1 , page 7 , line 2 NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE . 13.
... Fiend's arch mock ; " He in his fall preserved his pride , And , if a mortal , had as proudly died ! NOTES . Note 1 , page 7 , line 2 NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE . 13.
16 ÆäÀÌÁö
George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) Note 7 , page 13 , line 7 . The very Fiend's arch mock- " The fiend's arch mock- " To lip a wanton , and suppose her chaste . ¡± — Shakspeare . Q 41 1 POEMS . I. WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM 16 NOTES .
George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) Note 7 , page 13 , line 7 . The very Fiend's arch mock- " The fiend's arch mock- " To lip a wanton , and suppose her chaste . ¡± — Shakspeare . Q 41 1 POEMS . I. WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM 16 NOTES .
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Abydos art thou Athens beam behold blest blood bloom blush bosom breast cease charms cold could'st dare dark dead dear death deemed dream earth fair fame fear feel Fiend's arch mock fire from heaven fled flower frigate gaze Genevra glance glory Haideé harp hath heaven HEBREW MELODIES hope hour Judah's JUVENAL light living lonely love thee loved in vain lute Mariamne mirth mourn ne'er never Newstead Abbey night Note o'er once pangs perchance Pindus remember repine Romaic SAW THEE scene shine shone sigh silent sleep smile song Sons of Greeks Sorrow soul sound Sparta spirit STANZAS sweet tears thine thing thou art thou canst thou hast thought throne THY DAYS thy fall Thyrza tomb triumph Turkish twill vainly voice WALKS IN BEAUTY wave weep wept withered ἀ¥ã¥á¥ðῶ ¥Æώ¥ç ¥Æώ¥ç ¥ì¥å
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195 ÆäÀÌÁö - 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. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
142 ÆäÀÌÁö - And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!
195 ÆäÀÌÁö - Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen; Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd; And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still...
75 ÆäÀÌÁö - I will not ask where thou liest low Nor gaze upon the spot; There flowers or weeds at will may grow So I behold them not: It is enough for me to prove That what I loved, and long must love, Like common earth can rot; To me there needs no stone to tell 'Tis Nothing that I loved so well.
9 ÆäÀÌÁö - The Spaniard, when the lust of sway Had lost its quickening spell, Cast crowns for rosaries away, An empire for a cell...
181 ÆäÀÌÁö - A captive in the land, A stranger and a youth, He heard the king's command, He saw that writing's truth. The lamps around were bright, The prophecy in view ; He read it on that night, — The morrow proved it true. "Belshazzar's grave is made, His kingdom pass'd away, He, in the balance weigh'd, Is light and worthless clay.
134 ÆäÀÌÁö - These lips are mute, these eyes are dry ; But in my breast and in my brain, Awake the pangs that pass not by, The thought that ne'er shall sleep again. My soul nor deigns nor dares complain, Though grief and passion there rebel : I only know we loved in vain— I only feel — Farewell ! — Farewell ! 1808.
196 ÆäÀÌÁö - And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord...
158 ÆäÀÌÁö - ... roses rear Their leaves, the earliest of the year; And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom: And oft by yon blue gushing stream Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head, And feed deep thought with many a dream, And lingering pause and lightly tread: Fond wretch! as if her step disturb'd the dead!
142 ÆäÀÌÁö - She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.