Works of Lord Byron: With His Letters and Journals, and His Life, Band 9

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Seite 207 - KNOW ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime, Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime?
Seite 152 - Such is the aspect of this shore; >Tis Greece, but living Greece no more So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there. Hers is the loveliness in death, That parts not quite with parting breath...
Seite 153 - These scenes, their story not unknown, Arise, and make again your own ; Snatch from the ashes of your sires The embers of their former fires ; And he who in the strife expires Will add to theirs a name of fear That Tyranny shall quake to hear...
Seite 151 - 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), And marked the mild, angelic air, The rapture of repose that's there...
Seite 264 - Ours the wild life in tumult still to range From toil to rest, and joy in every change. Oh, who can tell? not thou, luxurious slave! Whose soul would sicken o'er the heaving wave; Not thou, vain lord of wantonness and ease! Whom slumber soothes...
Seite 165 - Singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight 'twould win me That with music loud and long, I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome!
Seite 86 - ... verum ubi plura nitent in carmine, non ego paucis offendar maculis, quas aut incuria fudit aut humana parum cavit natura.
Seite 109 - Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run, Along Morea's hills the setting sun: Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright, But one unclouded blaze of living light!
Seite viii - Oh ! night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong ; Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman ! Far along From peak to peak the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder ! Not from one lone cloud, But every mountain now hath found a tongue, And Jura answers through her misty shroud, Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud ! And this is in the night.
Seite 270 - Still sways their souls with that commanding art That dazzles, leads, yet chills the vulgar heart. What is that spell, that thus his lawless train Confess and envy, yet oppose in vain ? What should it be, that thus their faith can bind ? The power of Thought — the magic of the Mind ! Link'il with success, assumed and kept with skill, That moulds another's weakness to its will ; Wields with their hands, but, still to these unknown, Makes even their mightiest deeds appear his own. Such hath it been...

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