The Poetical Works of Lord Byron, 2±Ç |
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2 ÆäÀÌÁö
t is well for me My years already doubly number thine ; My loveless eye unmoved
may gaze on thee , And safely view thy ripening beauties shine ; Happy , I ne'er
shall see them in decline ; Happier , that while all younger hearts shall bleed ...
t is well for me My years already doubly number thine ; My loveless eye unmoved
may gaze on thee , And safely view thy ripening beauties shine ; Happy , I ne'er
shall see them in decline ; Happier , that while all younger hearts shall bleed ...
4 ÆäÀÌÁö
But dash the tear - drop from thine eye ; XI . Our ship is swift and strong : His
house , his home , his heritage , his lands , Our fleetest falcon scarce can fly The
laughing dames in whom he did delight , ? More merrily along . " 6 Whose large
blue ...
But dash the tear - drop from thine eye ; XI . Our ship is swift and strong : His
house , his home , his heritage , his lands , Our fleetest falcon scarce can fly The
laughing dames in whom he did delight , ? More merrily along . " 6 Whose large
blue ...
17 ÆäÀÌÁö
I joy no child he was of thine : Thy free - born men should spare what once was
free ; Yet they could violate each saddening shrine , Aud bear these altars o'er
the long - reluctant brine . 5 VIII . Yet if , as holiest men have deem'd , there be A ...
I joy no child he was of thine : Thy free - born men should spare what once was
free ; Yet they could violate each saddening shrine , Aud bear these altars o'er
the long - reluctant brine . 5 VIII . Yet if , as holiest men have deem'd , there be A ...
22 ÆäÀÌÁö
Oh ! where , Dodona ! is thine aged grove , Prophetic fount , and oracle divine ?
What valley echoed the response of Jove ? What trace remaineth of the
Thunderer's shrine ? All , all forgotten — and shall man repine That his frail
bonds to ...
Oh ! where , Dodona ! is thine aged grove , Prophetic fount , and oracle divine ?
What valley echoed the response of Jove ? What trace remaineth of the
Thunderer's shrine ? All , all forgotten — and shall man repine That his frail
bonds to ...
25 ÆäÀÌÁö
Spirit of Freedom ! when on Phyle's brow 9 Thou sat'st with Thrasybulus and his
train , Couldst thou forebode the dismal hour which now Dims the green beauties
of thine Attic plain ? Not thirty tyrants now enforce the chain , Bat every carle can
...
Spirit of Freedom ! when on Phyle's brow 9 Thou sat'st with Thrasybulus and his
train , Couldst thou forebode the dismal hour which now Dims the green beauties
of thine Attic plain ? Not thirty tyrants now enforce the chain , Bat every carle can
...
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answer appear arms bear beauty beneath better blood breast breath Cain chief child dare dark dead death deep Doge doubt earth Enter face fair fall fate father fear feel foes give hand hath head hear heard heart heaven hope hour Italy king land late least leave less light lines live look Lord Byron Lucifer means meet mind mortal mountains nature ne'er never night noble o'er once pass passion perhaps poem present rest rise round scarce scene seems seen smile soul sound speak spirit tears tell thee thine things thou thought thousand true turn voice walls waters wave wild Writes young youth
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51 ÆäÀÌÁö - Dark-heaving; — boundless, endless, and sublime; The image of eternity, the throne Of the Invisible: even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
22 ÆäÀÌÁö - And there was mounting in hot haste— the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war — And the deep thunder peal on peal afar ; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the Morning Star ; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips — 'The foe! They come! they come!' XXVI And wild and high the 'Cameron's Gathering
53 ÆäÀÌÁö - He who hath bent him o'er the dead Ere the first day of death is fled, The first dark day of nothingness, The last of danger and distress (Before Decay's effacing fingers Have swept the lines where beauty lingers...
22 ÆäÀÌÁö - 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...
22 ÆäÀÌÁö - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men ; A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell...
28 ÆäÀÌÁö - The sky is changed! - and such a change! Oh night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder! Not from one lone cloud, But every mountain now hath found a tongue, And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud!
22 ÆäÀÌÁö - Cameron's gathering' rose! The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes: How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills Their...
22 ÆäÀÌÁö - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, — alas ! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valour, rolling on the foe And burning with high hope shall moulder cold and low.
34 ÆäÀÌÁö - And even since, and now, fair Italy ! Thou art the garden of the world, the home Of all Art yields, and Nature (') can decree ; Even in thy desert, what is like to thee ? Thy very weeds are beautiful, thy waste ; More rich than other climes' fertility ; Thy wreck a glory, and thy ruin graced With an immaculate charm which cannot be defaced.
22 ÆäÀÌÁö - But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell, And there hath been thy bane; there is a fire And motion of the soul which will not dwell In its own narrow being, but aspire Beyond the fitting medium of desire; And, but once kindled, quenchless evermore, Preys upon high adventure, nor can tire Of aught but rest; a fever at the core, Fatal to him who bears; to all who ever bore.