The Works of Lord Byron: With His Letters and Journals, and His Life, by Thomas Moore, Esq, Band 9J. Murray, 1832 |
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Seite 16
... dare not trust those sounds again . To me they speak of brighter days- But lull the chords , for now , alas ! I must not think , I may not gaze On what I am on what I was . ' - The voice that made those sounds more sweet Is hush'd , and ...
... dare not trust those sounds again . To me they speak of brighter days- But lull the chords , for now , alas ! I must not think , I may not gaze On what I am on what I was . ' - The voice that made those sounds more sweet Is hush'd , and ...
Seite 24
... dare not speak before . Oh , pardon that in crowds awhile I waste one thought I owe to thee , And , self - condemn'd , appear to smile , Unfaithful to thy Memory ! Nor deem that memory less dear , That then I seem not to repine ; I ...
... dare not speak before . Oh , pardon that in crowds awhile I waste one thought I owe to thee , And , self - condemn'd , appear to smile , Unfaithful to thy Memory ! Nor deem that memory less dear , That then I seem not to repine ; I ...
Seite 31
... dare not mend , All past reproach may present scenes refute , And censure , wisely loud , be justly mute ! ( 2 ) ( 1 ) [ Originally , " Ere Garrick died , " & c.- - " By the bye , one of my cor . rections in the copy sent yesterday has ...
... dare not mend , All past reproach may present scenes refute , And censure , wisely loud , be justly mute ! ( 2 ) ( 1 ) [ Originally , " Ere Garrick died , " & c.- - " By the bye , one of my cor . rections in the copy sent yesterday has ...
Seite 32
... dare not mend . Blame not our judgment should we acquiesce , And gratify you more by showing less . The past reproach let present scenes refute , Nor shift from man to babe , from babe to brute . " " Is Whitbread , " said Lord Byron ...
... dare not mend . Blame not our judgment should we acquiesce , And gratify you more by showing less . The past reproach let present scenes refute , Nor shift from man to babe , from babe to brute . " " Is Whitbread , " said Lord Byron ...
Seite 60
... dare essay , And freely wander from the beaten way , True to your characters , till all be past , Preserve consistency from first to last . ' Tis hard to venture where our betters fail , Or lend fresh interest to a twice - told tale ...
... dare essay , And freely wander from the beaten way , True to your characters , till all be past , Preserve consistency from first to last . ' Tis hard to venture where our betters fail , Or lend fresh interest to a twice - told tale ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
antè Athens bard bear beauty blood bosom breast bride Bride of Abydos canto Capel Lofft Childe Harold Conrad couplet dare dark dear death deeds Edinburgh Review fear feel foes gaze GEORGE ELLIS Giaffir Giaour Greek grief hand hast hate hath hear heart heaven heroic couplet hope hour less live lonely Lord Byron Lord Chamberlain Mamurra MOORE ne'er never night numbers o'er once Pacha pass'd poem poet poetry Pope praise quæ quid rhyme Romaic scarce scene seem'd Selim shore slave smile song soothe soul tale tears tell thee thine thing thou thought Twas verse voice Waltz wave Whate'er words Zuleika ἀπὸ δὲν διὰ Ἐγὼ εἶναι εἰς ἐν καὶ κὴ μὲ νὰ σᾶς τὰ τὰς τὴν τῆς τὸ τὸν τοῦ τοὺς τῶν
Beliebte Passagen
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 viii - The sky is changed ! — and such a change ! 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...
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 - Appals the gazing mourner's heart, As if to him it could impart The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon ; Yes, but for these, and these alone, Some moments, ay, one treacherous hour, He still might doubt the tyrant's power ; So fair, so calm, so softly seal'd, The first, last look by death reveal'd...
Seite 153 - Bequeathed by bleeding sire to son, Though baffled oft is ever won. Bear witness, Greece, thy living page, Attest it many a deathless age ! While kings, in dusty darkness hid, Have left a nameless pyramid, Thy heroes, though the general doom Hath swept the column from their tomb, A mightier monument command, The mountains of their native land ! There points thy Muse to stranger's eye The graves of those that cannot die...
Seite 254 - 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 299 - Morea's hills the setting sun; not as in northern climes obscurely bright, but one unclouded blaze of living light : o'er the hushed deep the yellow beam he throws, gilds the green wave that trembles as it glows. On old jEgina's rock and Idra's isle the god of gladness sheds his parting smile; o'er his own regions lingering, loves to shine, though there his altars are no more divine.
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 179 - But first, on earth as Vampire sent, Thy corse shall from its tomb be 'rent : Then ghastly haunt thy native place, And suck the blood of all thy race : There, from thy daughter, sister, wife, At midnight drain the stream of life ; Yet loathe the banquet which perforce Must feed thy livid living corse : Thy victims, ere they yet expire, Shall know the demon for their sire, As cursing thee, thou cursing them, Thy flowers are withered on the stem.