The Poetical Works of Lord Byron, 3±Ç,ÆÄÆ® 1J. Murray, 1873 |
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iii ÆäÀÌÁö
... Review Introduction On the Death of a young Lady , Cousin to the Author , and very dear to him To E- To D- ¡¤ Epitaph on a Friend A Fragment • On leaving Newstead Abbey Lines written in " Letters of an Italian Nun and an English ...
... Review Introduction On the Death of a young Lady , Cousin to the Author , and very dear to him To E- To D- ¡¤ Epitaph on a Friend A Fragment • On leaving Newstead Abbey Lines written in " Letters of an Italian Nun and an English ...
5 ÆäÀÌÁö
... The task of pronouncing an opinion was forced upon the Doctor , who is evidently struggling between the wish to be complimentary and the obligation to be truthful . ] ARTICLE FROM THE EDINBURGH REVIEW , JANUARY , 1808 . PREFACE . 5 PAGE.
... The task of pronouncing an opinion was forced upon the Doctor , who is evidently struggling between the wish to be complimentary and the obligation to be truthful . ] ARTICLE FROM THE EDINBURGH REVIEW , JANUARY , 1808 . PREFACE . 5 PAGE.
6 ÆäÀÌÁö
... our author rather brings forward in order to waive it . He certainly , however , does allude frequently to his family and ancestors - sometimes in poetry , sometimes in notes Article on the "Hours of Idleness" from the Edinburgh Review.
... our author rather brings forward in order to waive it . He certainly , however , does allude frequently to his family and ancestors - sometimes in poetry , sometimes in notes Article on the "Hours of Idleness" from the Edinburgh Review.
7 ÆäÀÌÁö
... review , beside our desire to counsel him , that he do forthwith abandon poetry , and turn his talents , which are considerable , and his opportuni- ties , which are great , to better account . With this view , we must beg leave ...
... review , beside our desire to counsel him , that he do forthwith abandon poetry , and turn his talents , which are considerable , and his opportuni- ties , which are great , to better account . With this view , we must beg leave ...
8 ÆäÀÌÁö
... the remark , -ill - natured enough , but not keen , -about Macpherson , I ( quoad reviewers ) could have said , ' Alas , this imitation only It is a sort of privilege of poets to be 8 ARTICLE FROM THE EDINBURGH REVIEW .
... the remark , -ill - natured enough , but not keen , -about Macpherson , I ( quoad reviewers ) could have said , ' Alas , this imitation only It is a sort of privilege of poets to be 8 ARTICLE FROM THE EDINBURGH REVIEW .
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Allan's Alva's bard beam beauty behold beneath blest bliss bosom breast breath brow Calmar Capel Lofft CATULLUS dare dark dead dear death dream E'en Edinburgh Review expire falchion fame fate fear feel fire flame foes fond forget friendship glory glow grave hapless Harrow hath heart heaven hero honour hope hour Iulus Jeffrey kiss lady Latian line 12 live Lochlin Lord Byron love's last adieu lyre mingle Morven mourn muse ne'er never Newstead Newstead Abbey night Nisus Nisus and Euryalus numbers o'er once Orla Oscar passion perchance pibroch poem poet praise pride Probus R. B. SHERIDAN remembrance rhyme rise rolls satire scene shade sigh sire sleep slumbers smile song soothe soul Southey stanzas strain sweet tears thee thine thou thought throng truth twill verse voice wave weep wings young youth
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319 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.
319 ÆäÀÌÁö - But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail: And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
319 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 ! A SPIRIT PASS'D BEFORE ME.
327 ÆäÀÌÁö - Fare thee well! and if for ever, Still for ever, fare thee well: Even though unforgiving, never 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. Would that breast were bared before thee Where thy head so oft hath lain, While that placid sleep came o'er thee Which thou ne'er canst know again : Would that breast, by thee glanced over, Every inmost thought could show!
359 ÆäÀÌÁö - A change came o'er the spirit of my dream. The Boy was sprung to manhood: in the wilds Of fiery climes he made himself a home, And his soul drank their sunbeams: he was girt With strange and dusky aspects; he was not Himself like what he had been; on the sea And on the shore he was a wanderer...
6 ÆäÀÌÁö - See how a minor can write! This poem was actually composed by a young man of eighteen, and this by one of only sixteen!» — But, alas! we all remember the poetry of Cowley at ten, and Pope at twelve; and so far from hearing, with any degree of surprise, that very poor verses were written by a youth from his leaving school to his leaving college, inclusive, we really believe this to be the most common of all occurrences; that it happens in the life- of nine men in ten who are educated in England;...
293 ÆäÀÌÁö - All Evil Spirit as thou art, It is enough to grieve the heart To see thine own unstrung; To think that God's fair world hath been The footstool of a thing so mean!
313 ÆäÀÌÁö - Fix'd in its own eternity. Above or love, hope, hate, or fear, It lives all passionless and pure : An age shall fleet like earthly year ; Its years as moments shall endure. Away, away, without a wing, O'er all, through all, its thoughts shall fly ; A nameless and eternal thing, Forgetting what it was to die.
10 ÆäÀÌÁö - But whatever judgment may be passed on the poems of this noble minor, it seems we must take them as we find them, and be content; for they are the last we shall ever have from him. He is, at best, he says, but an intruder into the groves of Parnassus ; he never lived in a garret, like thorough-bred poets; and "though he once roved a careless mountaineer in the Highlands of Scotland," he has not of late enjoyed this advantage.
348 ÆäÀÌÁö - Of light no likeness is bequeath'd — no name, Focus at once of all the rays of Fame ! The flash of Wit, the bright Intelligence, The beam of Song, the blaze of Eloquence, Set with their Sun, but still have left behind The enduring produce of immortal Mind ; Fruits of a genial morn, and glorious noon, A deathless part of him who died too soon.