The poetical works of lord Byron, complete. (Pearl ed.).J. Murray, 1867 - 685 páginas |
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Página 5
... lost in gentle sleep , Forgot to smile , or ceased to weep : At this lone hour the Paphian boy , Descending from the realms of joy , Quick to my gate directs his course , And knocks with all his little force . My visions fled , alarm'd ...
... lost in gentle sleep , Forgot to smile , or ceased to weep : At this lone hour the Paphian boy , Descending from the realms of joy , Quick to my gate directs his course , And knocks with all his little force . My visions fled , alarm'd ...
Página 18
... Lost in the murmurs of the sighing gale ? The trench is pass'd , and , favour'd by the night , Through sleeping foes they wheel their wary flight . When shall the sleep of many a foe be o'er ? Alas ! some slumber who shall wake no more ...
... Lost in the murmurs of the sighing gale ? The trench is pass'd , and , favour'd by the night , Through sleeping foes they wheel their wary flight . When shall the sleep of many a foe be o'er ? Alas ! some slumber who shall wake no more ...
Página 26
... lost to me for aye , except in dreams ; Some who in marble prematurely sleep , Whose forms I now remember but to weep ; Some who yet urge the same scholastic course Of early science , future fame the source ; Who , still contending in ...
... lost to me for aye , except in dreams ; Some who in marble prematurely sleep , Whose forms I now remember but to weep ; Some who yet urge the same scholastic course Of early science , future fame the source ; Who , still contending in ...
Página 35
... lost for ever . Give me again a faithful few , In years and feelings still the same , And I will fly the midnight crew , Where boist'rous joy is but a name . And woman , lovely woman ! thou , My hope , my comforter , my all ! How cold ...
... lost for ever . Give me again a faithful few , In years and feelings still the same , And I will fly the midnight crew , Where boist'rous joy is but a name . And woman , lovely woman ! thou , My hope , my comforter , my all ! How cold ...
Página 38
... Lost in the dull , ignoble crowd , My hopes recline within a shroud , My fate is Lethe's stream . When I repose beneath the sod , Unheeded in the clay , Where once my playful footsteps trod , Where now my head must lay , The meed of ...
... Lost in the dull , ignoble crowd , My hopes recline within a shroud , My fate is Lethe's stream . When I repose beneath the sod , Unheeded in the clay , Where once my playful footsteps trod , Where now my head must lay , The meed of ...
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
The Poetical Works of Lord Byron, Complete. (Pearl Ed.) George Gordon N Byron (6th Baron ) Sin vista previa disponible - 2015 |
The Poetical Works Of Lord Byron, Complete. (pearl Ed.) George Gordon N Byron (6th Baron ) Sin vista previa disponible - 2023 |
The Poetical Works Of Lord Byron, Complete. (pearl Ed.) George Gordon N Byron (6th Baron ) Sin vista previa disponible - 2023 |
Términos y frases comunes
arms bear beauty behold beneath better blood born breast breath brow Cain chief dare dark dead death deep Doge doubt dream earth Enter face fair fall fame fate father fear feel fire gaze give grave half hand hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hope hour king knew lady land late least leave less light live look lord Lucifer meet mind nature ne'er never night o'er once pass past present rest rise round scarce scene seems seen shore slave sleep smile soul sound speak spirit sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought true turn voice walls wave young youth
Pasajes populares
Página 153 - Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms— the day Battle's magnificently stern array!
Página 159 - Sky, mountains, river, winds, lake, lightnings ! ye ! With night, and clouds, and thunder, and a soul To make these felt and feeling, well may be Things that have made me watchful ; the far roll Of your departing voices, is the knoll Of what in me is sleepless, — if I rest. But where of ye, 0 tempests ! is the goal ? Are ye like those within the human breast ? Or do ye find, at length, like eagles, some high nest ? XCVII.
Página 72 - OUR life is twofold : Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence : Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality. And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy ; They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being...
Página 153 - 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!
Página 152 - Tis to create, and in creating live A being more intense, that we endow With form our fancy, gaining as we give The life we image, even as I do now. What am I ? Nothing : but not so art thou, Soul of my thought ! with whom I traverse earth, Invisible but gazing, as I glow Mix'd with thy spirit, blended with thy birth, And feeling still with thee in my crush'd feelings
Página 245 - 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...
Página 178 - The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake And monarchs tremble in their capitals, The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee and arbiter of war,— These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride or spoils of Trafalgar.
Página 180 - Decay's effacing fingers Have swept the lines where beauty lingers,) And mark'd the mild angelic air, The rapture of repose that's there, The fixed yet tender traits that streak The languor of the placid cheek, And but for that sad shrouded eye, That fires not, wins not, weeps not, now. And but for that chill changeless brow, Where cold Obstruction's apathy...
Página 180 - He who hath bent him o'er the dead Ere the first day of death is fled, The first dark day of nothingness, The last of danger and distress, (Before Decay's effacing fingers Have swept the lines where beauty lingers...
Página 178 - Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime — The image of Eternity — the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.