The Works of the Right Honourable Lord Byron: Ode to Napoleon Buonaparte. Poems. Hebrew melodiesJohn Murray, 1817 |
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... thing So abject - yet alive ! Is this the man of thousand thrones , Who strewed our Earth with hostile bones ? And can he thus survive ? Since he , miscalled the Morning Star , Nor man nor fiend hath fall'n so far . II . Ill - minded ...
... thing So abject - yet alive ! Is this the man of thousand thrones , Who strewed our Earth with hostile bones ? And can he thus survive ? Since he , miscalled the Morning Star , Nor man nor fiend hath fall'n so far . II . Ill - minded ...
Сторінка 6
... before . That spell upon the minds of men Breaks never to unite again , That led them to adore Those Pagod things of sabre - sway , With fronts of brass , and feet of clay . IV . The triumph , and the vanity , The 6 ODE TO.
... before . That spell upon the minds of men Breaks never to unite again , That led them to adore Those Pagod things of sabre - sway , With fronts of brass , and feet of clay . IV . The triumph , and the vanity , The 6 ODE TO.
Сторінка 9
... as thou art , It is enough to grieve the heart , To see thine own unstrung ; To think that God's fair world hath been The footstool of a thing so mean ; X. And Earth hath spilt her blood for him , NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE . 9.
... as thou art , It is enough to grieve the heart , To see thine own unstrung ; To think that God's fair world hath been The footstool of a thing so mean ; X. And Earth hath spilt her blood for him , NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE . 9.
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... . Though Fate forbids such things to be , Yet , by thine eyes and ringlets curled ! I cannot lose a world for thee , But would not lose thee for a world . IV . STANZAS Composed October 11th 1809 , during the 24 POEMS .
... . Though Fate forbids such things to be , Yet , by thine eyes and ringlets curled ! I cannot lose a world for thee , But would not lose thee for a world . IV . STANZAS Composed October 11th 1809 , during the 24 POEMS .
Сторінка 60
... XIV . TO THYRZA . 1 . ONE struggle more , and I am free From pangs that rend my heart in twain ; One last long sigh to love and thee , Then back to busy life again . It suits me well to mingle now With things that 60 POEMS . To Thyrza.
... XIV . TO THYRZA . 1 . ONE struggle more , and I am free From pangs that rend my heart in twain ; One last long sigh to love and thee , Then back to busy life again . It suits me well to mingle now With things that 60 POEMS . To Thyrza.
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Abydos art thou Athens beam behold blest blood bloom blush bosom breast cease charms cold Constantinople could'st dare dark dead dear death deemed doomed dream earth fair fame fear feel Fiend's arch mock fire from heaven fled flowers frigate Galilee gaze Genevra glance glory Haideé harp hath heaven HEBREW MELODIES hope hour Judah's JUVENAL light living lonely love thee loved in vain lute Mariamne mirth mourn ne'er never Newstead Abbey night Note o'er once pangs perchance Pindus remember repine Romaic Saul SAW THEE scene shine shone sigh silent smile song Sons of Greeks Sorrow soul sound Sparta STANZAS sweet tears thine thing thou art thou canst thou hast thought throne THY DAYS thy fall Thyrza tomb triumph Turkish twill vainly voice WALKS IN BEAUTY weep wept withered Ζώη σὰς ἀγαπῶ
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Сторінка 148 - And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent ! THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
Сторінка 199 - Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed...
Сторінка 134 - These lips are mute, these eyes are dry ; But in my breast, and in my brain, Awake the pangs that pass not by, The thought that ne'er shall sleep again. My soul nor deigns nor dares complain, Though grief and passion there rebel...
Сторінка 200 - And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!
Сторінка 71 - Too soon return'd to Earth! Though Earth received them in her bed, And o'er the spot the crowd may tread In carelessness or mirth, There is an eye which could not brook A moment on that grave to look. I will not ask where thou liest low, Nor gaze upon the spot; There flowers or weeds at will may grow, So I behold them not...
Сторінка 198 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Сторінка 74 - As once I wept, if I could weep My tears might well be shed, To think I was not near to keep One vigil o'er thy bed; To gaze, how fondly ! on thy face, To fold thee in a faint embrace, Uphold thy drooping head; And show that love, however vain, Nor thou nor I can feel again.
Сторінка 9 - The Spaniard, when the lust of sway Had lost its quickening spell, Cast crowns for rosaries away, An empire for a cell...
Сторінка 183 - In that same hour and hall, The fingers of a hand Came forth against the wall, And wrote as if on sand : The fingers of a man ; A solitary hand Along the letters ran And traced them like a wand.
Сторінка 164 - ... roses rear Their leaves, the earliest of the year; And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom: And oft by yon blue gushing stream Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head, And feed deep thought with many a dream, And lingering pause and lightly tread: Fond wretch! as if her step disturb'd the dead!