The Works of Lord Byron: With His Letters and Journals and His Life, Том 14

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Сторінка 352 - My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone ; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone...
Сторінка 287 - The peace has made one general malcontent Of these high-market patriots; war was rent! Their love of country, millions all misspent, How reconcile? by reconciling rent!
Сторінка 353 - Seek out — less often sought than found — A soldier's grave, for thee the best ; Then look around, and choose thy ground, And take thy rest.
Сторінка 262 - Where — taming thought to human pride ! — The mighty chiefs sleep side by side. Drop upon Fox's grave the tear, 'Twill trickle to his rival's bier ; O'er PITT'S the mournful requiem sound, And Fox's shall the notes rebound. The solemn echo seems to cry, — " Here let their discord with them die : Speak not for those a separate doom, Whom Fate made Brothers in the tomb ; But search the land of living men, Where wilt thou find their like agen...
Сторінка 353 - No torch is kindled at its blaze A funeral pile. The hope, the fear, the jealous care, The exalted portion of the pain And power of love, I cannot share, But wear the chain. But 'tis not thus - and 'tis not here Such thoughts should shake my soul, nor now, Where glory decks the hero's bier, Or binds his brow. The sword, the banner, and the field, Glory and Greece, around me see ! The Spartan, borne upon his shield, Was not more free.
Сторінка 3 - The attempt to bully you, because they think it will not succeed with me, seems to me as atrocious an attempt as ever disgraced the times. What! when Gibbon's, Hume's, Priestley's, and Drummond's publishers have been allowed to rest in peace for seventy years, are you to be singled out for a work of fiction, not of history or argument? There must be something at the bottom of this — some private enemy of your own : it is otherwise incredible.
Сторінка 298 - The women at Otaheite are handsome, mild and cheerful in their manners and conversation, possessed of great sensibility, and have sufficient delicacy to make them admired and beloved. The chiefs were so much attached to our people, that they rather encouraged their stay among them than otherwise, and even made them promises of large possessions. Under these, and many other...
Сторінка 291 - There my retreat the best companions grace, Chiefs out of war, and statesmen out of place: There St. John mingles with my friendly bowl The feast of reason and the flow of soul: And he, whose lightning pierced the' Iberian lines, Now forms my quincunx, and now ranks my vines; Or tames the genius of the stubborn plain, Almost as quickly as he conquer'd Spain.
Сторінка 293 - While throng'd the chiefs of every Highland clan To hail their brother, Vich Ian Alderman ! Guildhall grows Gael, and echoes with Erse roar, While all the Common Council cry " Claymore !" To see proud Albyn's tartans as a belt Gird the gross sirloin of a city Celt...

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