Hebrew MelodiesJohn Murray, 1815 - 53ÆäÀÌÁö |
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5 ÆäÀÌÁö
... ear so dull , no soul so cold , That felt not , fired not to the tone , Till David's Lyre grew mightier than his throne ! II . It told the triumphs of our King , HEBREW MELODIES . 5 The harp the monarch minstrel swept.
... ear so dull , no soul so cold , That felt not , fired not to the tone , Till David's Lyre grew mightier than his throne ! II . It told the triumphs of our King , HEBREW MELODIES . 5 The harp the monarch minstrel swept.
28 ÆäÀÌÁö
... in beauty's eyes , And felt my soul grow tender ; All earth can give , or mortal prize , Was mine of regal splendour . II . I strive to number o'er what days Remembrance 28 HEBREW MELODIES . ¡°All is vanity, saith the preacher¡±
... in beauty's eyes , And felt my soul grow tender ; All earth can give , or mortal prize , Was mine of regal splendour . II . I strive to number o'er what days Remembrance 28 HEBREW MELODIES . ¡°All is vanity, saith the preacher¡±
21 ÆäÀÌÁö
... felt his soul become more light Beneath the freshness of the night . Cool was the silent sky , though calm , And bathed his brow with airy balm : Behind , the camp - before him lay , In many a winding creek and bay , Lepanto's gulf ...
... felt his soul become more light Beneath the freshness of the night . Cool was the silent sky , though calm , And bathed his brow with airy balm : Behind , the camp - before him lay , In many a winding creek and bay , Lepanto's gulf ...
23 ÆäÀÌÁö
... felt how faint and feebly dim The fame that could accrue to him , Who cheered the band , and waved the sword , A traitor in a turbaned horde ; And led them to the lawless siege , 345 350 355 Whose best success were sacrilege . Not so ...
... felt how faint and feebly dim The fame that could accrue to him , Who cheered the band , and waved the sword , A traitor in a turbaned horde ; And led them to the lawless siege , 345 350 355 Whose best success were sacrilege . Not so ...
29 ÆäÀÌÁö
... felt not a breath come over his cheek ; 485 What did that sudden sound bespeak ? He turned to the left - is he sure of sight ? There sate a lady , youthful and bright ! XX . He started up with more of fear Than if an armed foe were near ...
... felt not a breath come over his cheek ; 485 What did that sudden sound bespeak ? He turned to the left - is he sure of sight ? There sate a lady , youthful and bright ! XX . He started up with more of fear Than if an armed foe were near ...
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behold beneath blood Bonnivard bosom breast breath bright brow Chillon cloud cold Corinth dark Darvell dead death deed deep doom doth dream dungeon earth eternal eyes falchions fame fear feel fell felt gazed Geneve glance glory grave Greece grew hand hath heard heart heaven Hetman hill hope hour knew light limbs look LORD BYRON maid Mariamne Mazeppa Minotti monarch Moslem ne'er never night nought numbers o'er pain Parisina pass'd POEM PRISONER OF CHILLON rolls Romania rose round sate scarce seem'd shines shone shore SIEGE OF CORINTH sigh silent SIR PETER PARKER sire sleep smile song soul sound spirit stars steed stone stood sweet sword tears thee thine things thou art thought thousand turban Turcoman Twas Venice voice wall wandered waves weep wept wild winds wished for wings withered
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4 ÆäÀÌÁö - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard ! — May none those marks efface ! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
46 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.
4 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.
47 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...
49 ÆäÀÌÁö - Though thy slumber may be deep, Yet thy spirit shall not sleep, There are shades which will not vanish, There are thoughts thou canst not banish...
14 ÆäÀÌÁö - Was as a mockery of the tomb, Whose tints as gently sunk away As a departing rainbow's ray ; An eye of most transparent light, That almost made the dungeon bright, And not a word of murmur, not A groan o'er his untimely lot, — A little talk of better days, A little hope my own...
52 ÆäÀÌÁö - TITAN ! to whose immortal eyes The sufferings of mortality, Seen in their sad reality, Were not as things that gods despise ; What was thy pity's recompense ? A silent suffering, and intense ; The rock, the vulture, and the chain, All that the proud can feel of pain...
38 ÆäÀÌÁö - The dread of vanish'd shadows. Are they so ? Is not the past all shadow ! What are they ' Creations of the mind ? The mind can make Substance, and people planets of its own With beings brighter than have been, — and give A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.
37 ÆäÀÌÁö - A thousand horse, and none to ride ! With flowing tail, and flying mane, Wide nostrils never...
40 ÆäÀÌÁö - Which colour'd all his objects:— he had ceased To live within himself; she was his life, The ocean to the river of his thoughts, Which terminated all: upon a tone, A touch of hers, his blood would ebb and flow, And his cheek change tempestuously— his heart Unknowing of its cause of agony. But she in these fond feelings had no share: Her sighs were not for him; to her he was Even as a brother— but no more...