Lord Byron and Some of His Contemporaries: With Recollections of the Author's Life, and of His Visit to Italy, Том 1 |
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Сторінка iii
The reader will oblige me by letting me explain to him , how the volume , here
offered to his perusal , came to be what it is . I think it due to myself to make the
explanation ; and as a conscientious reader of the prefaces of other men , I may ...
The reader will oblige me by letting me explain to him , how the volume , here
offered to his perusal , came to be what it is . I think it due to myself to make the
explanation ; and as a conscientious reader of the prefaces of other men , I may ...
Сторінка xi
I , for one , willingly concede that the reader may know me better than myself ,
and punish me in his thought accordingly . Let me have only the benefit of the
concession . I have been forced to give up , in my time , too many dreams of self -
love ...
I , for one , willingly concede that the reader may know me better than myself ,
and punish me in his thought accordingly . Let me have only the benefit of the
concession . I have been forced to give up , in my time , too many dreams of self -
love ...
Сторінка xvii
... rather than hostile ones : —it was any thing but hostility which made me take
the pencil in hand , as I have shown in the former preface ; and the reader may
smile at my simplicity ( though there is a lesson for him in it , if he does ) when I
state ...
... rather than hostile ones : —it was any thing but hostility which made me take
the pencil in hand , as I have shown in the former preface ; and the reader may
smile at my simplicity ( though there is a lesson for him in it , if he does ) when I
state ...
Сторінка xxxvi
I hardly dare tell the reader , how little even the grossest abuse affects me , in the
angry sense of the word , when I think the writer a sincere person . But if there is
any thing in the world that I feel to be provoking , it is want of fairness and open ...
I hardly dare tell the reader , how little even the grossest abuse affects me , in the
angry sense of the word , when I think the writer a sincere person . But if there is
any thing in the world that I feel to be provoking , it is want of fairness and open ...
Сторінка xxxix
been sincere , he would have saved a great many people , and himself , a world
of wretchedness . Let the reader consider but these two facts , and make his own
deductions . ILLUSTRATIONS . VOL . I. PORTRAIT OF LORD BYRON TO THE ...
been sincere , he would have saved a great many people , and himself , a world
of wretchedness . Let the reader consider but these two facts , and make his own
deductions . ILLUSTRATIONS . VOL . I. PORTRAIT OF LORD BYRON TO THE ...
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acquaintance admired affected appeared beauty become believe body called cause character circumstances common critics delight doubt England English eyes face fair feel felt gave genius give given greater hand hear heart hope human Hunt Italian Italy kind knew known lady least less letters Liberal light lived look Lord Byron manner matter mean mention mind Moore nature never night noble object occasion once opinion passage perhaps person pleasure poem poet poetry politics present published reader reason regard remarkable respect seemed seen sense sent Shelley Shelley's side sort speak spirit supposed sure taken talk tell thing thought tion told took true truth turn UNIV whole wish write written young
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Сторінка 429 - While he from forth the closet brought a heap Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd, With jellies soother than the creamy curd, And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon, Manna and dates, in argosy transferr'd From Fez, and spiced dainties, every one, From silken Samarcand to cedar'd Lebanon.
Сторінка 435 - Ode to a Nightingale MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thy happiness, — That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
Сторінка 364 - Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear...
Сторінка 428 - Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass, And diamonded with panes of quaint device...
Сторінка 364 - The City's voice itself is soft like Solitude's. I see the Deep's untrampled floor With green and purple seaweeds strown ; I see the waves upon the shore, Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown : I sit upon the sands alone, The lightning of the noontide ocean Is flashing round me, and a tone Arises from its measured motion, How sweet ! did any heart now share in my emotion. III. Alas ! I have nor hope nor health, Nor peace within nor calm around...
Сторінка 340 - The cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place.
Сторінка 434 - Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone...
Сторінка 435 - O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene...
Сторінка 419 - Knowing within myself (he says) the manner in which this Poem has been produced, it is not without a feeling of regret that I make it public.— What manner I mean, will be quite clear to the reader, who must soon perceive great inexperience, immaturity, and every error denoting a feverish attempt, rather than a deed accomplished.'— Preface, p.
Сторінка 437 - Forlorn ! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self ! J Adieu ! the fancy cannot cheat so well As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.