The Poetical Works of Lord Byron, Band 4

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Seite 315 - 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.
Seite 341 - Near this spot Are deposited the Remains Of one Who Possessed Beauty Without Vanity, Strength without Insolence, Courage without Ferocity, And all the Virtues of Man Without his Vices. This Praise, which would be unmeaning flattery If inscribed over Human Ashes, Is but a just tribute to the Memory of "Boatswain," a Dog Who was born at Newfoundland, May, 1803, And died at Newstead Abbey Nov. 18, 1808.
Seite 298 - Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless — A lump of death — a chaos of hard clay. The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still, And nothing stirred within their silent depths; Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea, And their masts fell down piecemeal; as they dropp'd They slept on the abyss without a surge...
Seite 353 - And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning, as it were a lamp, and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters...
Seite 224 - WHEN we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss ; Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this. The dew of the morning Sunk chill on my brow — It felt like the warning Of what I feel now. Thy vows are all broken, And light is thy fame : I hear thy name spoken, And share in its shame. They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear ; A shudder comes o'er me — Why wert thou so dear?
Seite 338 - The sword, the banner, and the field, Glory and Greece around me see ! The Spartan, borne upon his shield, Was not more free. Awake ! (Not Greece, — she is awake !) Awake my spirit ! think through whom Thy life-blood tracks its parent lake, And then strike home ! Tread those reviving passions down, Unworthy manhood ! unto thee, Indifferent should the smile or frown Of beauty be.
Seite 317 - MY boat is on the shore, And my bark is on the sea : But before I go Tom Moore.
Seite 300 - 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...
Seite 260 - A moment on that grave to look. 1 will not ask where thou liest low, Nor gaze upon the spot ; There flowers or weeds at will may grow. So I behold them not : It is enough for me to prove That what I loved, and long must love, Like common earth can rot ; To me there needs no stone to tell, 'Tis Nothing that I loved so well.
Seite 296 - I had a dream, which was not all a dream. The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air...

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