Lord Byron as a Satirist in Verse, Band 1

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Columbia University Press, 1912 - 228 Seiten
 

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Seite 86 - 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 13 - Yes, I am proud ; I must be proud, to see Men not afraid of God, afraid of me : Safe from the bar, the pulpit, and the throne, 210 Yet touch'd and sham'd by ridicule alone. O sacred weapon ! left for truth's defence, Sole dread of folly, vice, and insolence...
Seite 168 - Duly accompanied by shrieks and groans. Which few will sing, I trust, but none forget it For I will teach, if possible, the stones To rise against Earth's tyrants.
Seite 206 - See these inglorious Cincinnati swarm, Farmers of war, dictators of the farm; Their ploughshare was the sword in hireling hands, Their fields manured by gore of other lands; Safe in their barns, these Sabine tillers sent Their brethren out to battle — why? for rent! Year after year they voted cent, per cent., Blood, sweat, and tear-wrung millions — why? for rent! They roared, they dined, they drank, they swore they meant To die for England — why then live? — for rent!
Seite 169 - But never mind;—" God save the king!" and kings! For if he don't, I doubt if men will longer — I think I hear a little bird, who sings The people by and by will be the stronger...
Seite 169 - AN old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king ; Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow Through public scorn — mud from a muddy spring ; Rulers, who neither see, nor feel, nor know. But leech-like to their fainting country cling...
Seite 168 - Yet, Freedom ! yet thy banner, torn, but flying, Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind ; Thy trumpet voice, though broken now and dying, The loudest still the tempest leaves behind ; Thy tree...
Seite 97 - WEEP, daughter of a royal line, A Sire's disgrace, a realm's decay ; Ah ! happy if each tear of thine Could wash a father's fault away ! Weep — for thy tears are Virtue's tears — Auspicious to these suffering isles ; And be each drop in future years Repaid thee by thy people's smiles ! THE CHAIN I GAVE.
Seite 182 - Tis pity learned virgins ever wed With persons of no sort of education, Or gentlemen, who, though...
Seite 135 - Besides, my Muse by no means deals in fiction : She gathers a repertory of facts, Of course with some reserve and slight restriction, But mostly sings of human things and acts — And that's one cause she meets with contradiction; For too much truth, at first sight, ne'er attracts ; And were her object only what's call'd glory, With more ease too she'd tell a different story.

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