The Works of Lord Byron: With His Letters and Journals, and His Life, Volume 15John Murray, 1833 |
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Æneid Alfonso antè appears beautiful blood Boabdil boat Canto character Childe Harold Coleridge death devil Don Giovanni Don Juan doubt e'er Edinburgh Review English English poetry epic Eutropius eyes fair fame father feel friends genius Giaour Grandmother's Review Haidée heart heaven honour hope hour human Juan's Julia knew lady less letter libertine living look'd Lord Byron mind Moore moral mother muse ne'er never noble o'er pass'd passion perhaps person Peter Bell poem poet poetical poetry Pope praise present reader rhyme ribaldry Samian wine scarce seem'd ship soul Southey spirit stanzas style sublime sure sweet tears There's thing thou thought turn'd Twas verse virtue Wat Tyler wave wife William Wordsworth wine wish words Wordsworth write written Yarrow young
Populaire passages
Pagina 88 - Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys, Yet wit ne'er tastes, and beauty ne'er enjoys : So well-bred spaniels civilly delight In mumbling of the game they dare not bite. Eternal smiles his emptiness betray, As shallow streams run dimpling all the way.
Pagina 331 - Soft hour ! which wakes the wish and melts the heart Of those who sail the seas, on the first day When they from their sweet friends are torn apart ; Or fills with love the pilgrim on his way, As the far bell of vesper makes him start, Seeming to weep the dying day's decay.
Pagina 223 - And first one universal shriek there rush'd, Louder than the loud ocean, like a crash Of echoing thunder; and then all was hush'd, Save the wild wind and the remorseless dash Of billows; but at intervals there gush'd, Accompanied with a convulsive splash, A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry Of some strong swimmer in his agony.
Pagina 329 - Some kinder casuists are pleased to say, In nameless print — that I have no devotion ; But set those persons down with me to pray, And you shall see who has the properest notion Of getting into heaven the shortest way ; My altars are the mountains and the ocean, Earth, air, stars, — all that springs from the great Whole, Who hath produced, and will receive the soul.
Pagina 10 - No more — no more — Oh ! never more on me The freshness of the heart can fall like dew, Which out of all the lovely things we see Extracts emotions beautiful and new, Hived in our bosoms like the bag o' the bee : Think'st thou the honey with those objects grew ? • Alas!
Pagina 323 - But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think...
Pagina 159 - tis sometimes sweet to have our quarrels, Particularly with a tiresome friend; Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels; Dear is the helpless creature we defend Against the world; and dear the schoolboy spot We ne'er forget, though there we are forgot. CXXVII. But sweeter still than this, than these, than all, Is first and passionate love — it stands alone, Like Adam's recollection of his fall...
Pagina 91 - Whose honours with increase of ages grow, As streams roll down, enlarging as they flow ; Nations unborn your mighty names shall sound, And worlds applaud that must not yet be found!
Pagina 91 - Oh may some spark of your celestial fire The last, the meanest of your sons inspire, (That on weak wings, from far, pursues your flights ; Glows while he reads, but trembles as he writes) To teach vain wits a science little known, T' admire superior sense, and doubt their own!
Pagina 318 - The Scian and the Teian muse, The hero's harp, the lover's lute, Have found the fame your shores refuse : Their place of birth alone is mute To sounds which echo further west Than your sires'