The Works of the Rt. Hon. Lord Byron: In Eight Volumes, Bände 1-2

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Seite 307 - What I have done is done ; I bear within A torture which could nothing gain from thine : The mind which is immortal makes itself Requital for its good or evil thoughts — Is its own origin of ill and end — And its own place and time...
Seite 249 - And help'd to plant the wound that laid thee low: So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, View'd his own feather on the fatal dart, And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart; Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel, He nursed the pinion which impell'd the steel; While the same plumage that had warm'd his nest . Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast.
Seite 7 - Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried, And danced in triumph o'er the waters wide, The exulting sense — the pulse's maddening play, That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way...
Seite 119 - Gul in her bloom? Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, And the voice of the nightingale never is mute, Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky, In colour though varied, in beauty may vie...
Seite 7 - O'ER the glad waters of the dark blue sea, " Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free, " Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, " Survey our empire, and behold our home ! " These are our realms, no limits' to their sway — " Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey. " Ours the wild life in tumult still to range " From toil to rest, and joy in every change.
Seite 303 - Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome; The trees which grew along the broken arches Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars Shone through the rents of ruin; from afar The watch-dog bayed beyond the Tiber ; and More near from out the Caesars...
Seite 119 - 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 307 - Thou didst not tempt me, and thou couldst not tempt me ; I have not been thy dupe nor am thy prey, But was my own destroyer, and will be My own hereafter. — Back, ye baffled fiends ! The hand of death is on me — but not yours ! [The Demons disappear.
Seite 289 - This man Is of no common order, as his port And presence here denote ; his sufferings Have been of an immortal nature, like Our own ; his knowledge, and his powers and will, As far as is compatible with clay, Which clogs the ethereal essence, have...
Seite 300 - Centre of many stars ! which mak'st our earth Endurable, and temperest the hues And hearts of all who walk within thy rays ! Sire of the seasons ! Monarch of the climes, And those who dwell in them ! for near or far, Our inborn spirits have a tint of thee Even as our outward aspects ; — thou dost rise, And shine, and set in glory. Fare thee well ! I ne'er shall see thee more. As my first glance Of love and wonder was for thee, then take My latest look...

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