The works of ... lord Byron, 3-4±Ç

¾ÕÇ¥Áö

µµ¼­ º»¹®¿¡¼­

¼±ÅÃµÈ ÆäÀÌÁö

ÀÚÁÖ ³ª¿À´Â ´Ü¾î ¹× ±¸¹®

Àαâ Àο뱸

105 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 mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
13 ÆäÀÌÁö - O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free, Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, Survey our empire, and behold our home!
122 ÆäÀÌÁö - ... host of the Lord, Heed not the corse, though a king's, in your path : Bury your steel in the bosoms of Gath ! Thou who art bearing my buckler and bow, Should the soldiers of Saul look away from the foe, Stretch me that moment in blood at thy feet ! Mine be the doom which they dared not to meet. Farewell to others, but never we part, Heir to my royalty, son of my heart ! Bright is the diadem, boundless the sway, Or kingly the death, which awaits us to-day ! SAUL. THOU whose spell can raise the...
66 ÆäÀÌÁö - Well! thou art happy, and I feel That I should thus be happy too; For still my heart regards thy weal Warmly as it was wont to do. Thy husband's blest— and 'twill impart Some pangs to view his happier lot: But let them pass— Oh! how my heart Would hate him, if he loved thee not! When late I saw thy favourite child I thought my jealous heart would break; But when the unconscious infant smiled, I kiss'd it for its mother's sake.
105 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 ! THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
141 ÆäÀÌÁö - 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.
141 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!
21 ÆäÀÌÁö - That man of loneliness and mystery, Scarce seen to smile, and seldom heard to sigh; Whose name appals the fiercest of his crew, And tints each swarthy cheek with sallower hue; Still sways their souls with that commanding art That dazzles, leads, yet chills the vulgar heart.
140 ÆäÀÌÁö - For the angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still?
94 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.

µµ¼­ ¹®ÇåÁ¤º¸