Lord Byron and Some of His Contemporaries: With Recollections of the Author's Life, and of His Visit to Italy, Том 1H. Colburn, 1828 - 494 стор. |
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Сторінка vi
... written it conscientiously , and that it is not in every respect fit to appear ; but it has long ceased to be within my no- tions of what is necessary for society , to give an unpleasant account of any man ; and as to my own biography ...
... written it conscientiously , and that it is not in every respect fit to appear ; but it has long ceased to be within my no- tions of what is necessary for society , to give an unpleasant account of any man ; and as to my own biography ...
Сторінка x
... writing this Preface , the article here alluded to has been omitted , though not on Mr. Hazlitt's account , or my own ; for however I might regret speaking disagreeable truths of any man , much more of one whose unquestionable love of ...
... writing this Preface , the article here alluded to has been omitted , though not on Mr. Hazlitt's account , or my own ; for however I might regret speaking disagreeable truths of any man , much more of one whose unquestionable love of ...
Сторінка xvii
... written of some of my adversaries , I thought rather to have awakened their re- morse , than roused in them a new spirit of aggression . It is true , to injure produces a desire to injure again ; so naturally impatient VOL . I. b is ...
... written of some of my adversaries , I thought rather to have awakened their re- morse , than roused in them a new spirit of aggression . It is true , to injure produces a desire to injure again ; so naturally impatient VOL . I. b is ...
Сторінка xviii
... written against me in various pub- lications , one has appeared in the Quarterly Review , such as I should no more have no- ticed , or looked at , than the others , had it not been for a pretended fact or two , which it may be as well ...
... written against me in various pub- lications , one has appeared in the Quarterly Review , such as I should no more have no- ticed , or looked at , than the others , had it not been for a pretended fact or two , which it may be as well ...
Сторінка xix
... written by one of them , ) it would be necessary to set up a work like their own , in which truth and decency should be treated with avowed contempt ; no connexion spared , however private ; and people's very lameness and calamities ...
... written by one of them , ) it would be necessary to set up a work like their own , in which truth and decency should be treated with avowed contempt ; no connexion spared , however private ; and people's very lameness and calamities ...
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acquaintance admired afterwards Albaro appeared Bard Baubo Bay of Spezia beauty believe body called Captain compliment confess connexion contradiction critics DEAR HUNT delight Don Juan doubt England English eyes fancy Faust feel genius Genoa gentleman give Goethe good-humoured handsome Hazlitt heart honour hope Italian Italy Keats kind knew lady Lady Byron laugh least Leghorn Leigh Hunt Lerici less letters Liberal lived look Lord Byron Lord Holland Lordship Madame Guiccioli manner matter mean Medwin Meph mistake Moore moral nature never noble occasion opinion Parisina passage passion perhaps person Pisa pleasure poem poet poetical poetry pretended reader reason respect Rimini seemed sense Shelley Shelley's sincerity sort speak spirit spleen talk tell thing thou thought tion told took truth Via Reggio wish word 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 syrups, 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 434 - Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare...
Сторінка 437 - Darkling I listen; and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth -thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! • Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod.
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 436 - O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim...
Сторінка 436 - Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays...
Сторінка 437 - As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf. Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: — Do I wake or sleep?
Сторінка 411 - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: — Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific — and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise — Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
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 437 - Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket...