The Complete Poetical WorksHoughton Mifflin, 1905 - 1055ÆäÀÌÁö |
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... doubt be cited from Byron ( they are not altogether wanting even in Homer ) , but they are in him distinctly exceptions . In general the poetic medium in which he works has an intel- lectual solidity akin to the older masters . Poetry ...
... doubt be cited from Byron ( they are not altogether wanting even in Homer ) , but they are in him distinctly exceptions . In general the poetic medium in which he works has an intel- lectual solidity akin to the older masters . Poetry ...
xv ÆäÀÌÁö
... doubt , and very dainty verse ; but I cannot think the fame of the great masters of song depends on such trivialities as this . Black as ash - buds in March , one might read all the famous epics of history without acquiring this curious ...
... doubt , and very dainty verse ; but I cannot think the fame of the great masters of song depends on such trivialities as this . Black as ash - buds in March , one might read all the famous epics of history without acquiring this curious ...
20 ÆäÀÌÁö
... Doubt and Death , whose hope is built on reeds . IV Bound to the earth , he lifts his eye to heaven Is ' t not enough , unhappy thing , to know Thou art ? Is this a boon so kindly given , 30 That , being , thou wouldst be again , and go ...
... Doubt and Death , whose hope is built on reeds . IV Bound to the earth , he lifts his eye to heaven Is ' t not enough , unhappy thing , to know Thou art ? Is this a boon so kindly given , 30 That , being , thou wouldst be again , and go ...
98 ÆäÀÌÁö
... doubt my bosom heaves not ; Warm was the passion of my youth , One trace of dark deceit it leaves not . No , no , my flame was not pretended , For , oh ! I loved you most sincerely ; And though our dream at last is ended- My bosom still ...
... doubt my bosom heaves not ; Warm was the passion of my youth , One trace of dark deceit it leaves not . No , no , my flame was not pretended , For , oh ! I loved you most sincerely ; And though our dream at last is ended- My bosom still ...
172 ÆäÀÌÁö
... doubt , Which rends my heart with ceaseless sigh , While day and night roll darkling by . Without one friend to hear my woe , I faint , I die beneath the blow . That Love had arrows , well I knew ; Alas ! I find them poison'd too ...
... doubt , Which rends my heart with ceaseless sigh , While day and night roll darkling by . Without one friend to hear my woe , I faint , I die beneath the blow . That Love had arrows , well I knew ; Alas ! I find them poison'd too ...
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Adah Anah art thou aught bear beauty behold beneath blood bosom breast breath brow Byron C©¡s Cain Calmar Childe Harold dare dark dead dear death deeds deep Doge dost dread dream earth fair fame fate father fear feel gaze Giaour glory grave Greece hand hath hear heart heaven honour hope hour Iden Juan king Lady less Lioni live look look'd lord Lucifer Marino Faliero Michel Steno Morgante mortal Myrrha ne'er never night o'er once PANIA pass'd passion poem SARDANAPALUS satraps scarce scene seem'd shore Sieg Siegendorf sigh sire slave sleep smile song soul spirit Stral strange sweet sword tears thee thine things Thomas Moore thou art thou hast thought turn'd Venice voice wave weep words youth
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81 ÆäÀÌÁö - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean, roll ! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin, his control Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy...
82 ÆäÀÌÁö - And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight : and if the freshening sea Made them a terror — 'twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.
39 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 throng'd the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips — " The foe ! they come ! they come ! " XXVI. And wild and high the
38 ÆäÀÌÁö - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet.— But hark!
38 ÆäÀÌÁö - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather'd 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 look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell; But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!
229 ÆäÀÌÁö - So we'll go no more a roving So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving, And the moon be still as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And love itself have rest. Though the night was made for loving, And the day returns too soon, Yet we'll go no more a roving By the light of the moon.
311 ÆäÀÌÁö - Tis Greece, but living Greece no more ! So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there. Hers is the loveliness in death, That parts not quite with parting breath ; But beauty with that fearful bloom, That hue which haunts it to the tomb ; Expression's last receding ray, A gilded halo hovering round decay...
813 ÆäÀÌÁö - Were still at least our countrymen. The tyrant of the Chersonese Was freedom's best and bravest friend; That tyrant was Miltiades! Oh that the present hour would lend Another despot of the kind! Such chains as his were sure to bind. Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! On Suli's rock, and Parga's shore, Exists the remnant of a line Such as the Doric mothers bore: And there, perhaps, some seed is sown The Heracleidan blood might own.
812 ÆäÀÌÁö - What, silent still? and silent all? Ah! no;— the voices of the dead Sound like a distant torrent's fall, And answer, "Let one living head, But one, arise,— we come, we come!
404 ÆäÀÌÁö - Which in a palace had grown cold, Had his free breathing been denied The range of the steep mountain's side; But why delay the truth? — he died. I saw, and could not hold his head...