The Works of the Right Honourable Lord Byron: Ode to Napoleon Buonaparte. Poems. Hebrew melodiesJohn Murray, 1817 |
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... were its shade ! —ah , no ! ' Tis but a Turkish tomb . 4 . Through sounds of foaming waterfalls , ... I hear a voice exclaim- My way - worn countryman , who calls On distant England's name . 5 . A shot is fired - by foe or 26 POEMS .
... were its shade ! —ah , no ! ' Tis but a Turkish tomb . 4 . Through sounds of foaming waterfalls , ... I hear a voice exclaim- My way - worn countryman , who calls On distant England's name . 5 . A shot is fired - by foe or 26 POEMS .
Сторінка 54
... blushed to plead for more . The tone , that taught me to rejoice , When prone , unlike thee , to repine ; The song , celestial from thy voice , But sweet to me from none but thine ; The pledge we wore I wear it still , - 54 POEMS .
... blushed to plead for more . The tone , that taught me to rejoice , When prone , unlike thee , to repine ; The song , celestial from thy voice , But sweet to me from none but thine ; The pledge we wore I wear it still , - 54 POEMS .
Сторінка 57
... voice that made those sounds more sweet Is hushed , and all their charms are fled ; And now their softest notes repeat A dirge , an anthem o'er the dead ' Yes , Thyrza ! yes , they breathe of thee , Beloved dust ! since dust thou art ...
... voice that made those sounds more sweet Is hushed , and all their charms are fled ; And now their softest notes repeat A dirge , an anthem o'er the dead ' Yes , Thyrza ! yes , they breathe of thee , Beloved dust ! since dust thou art ...
Сторінка 58
... voice I would not hear , A voice that now might well be still , Yet oft my doubting soul ' twill shake : Ev'n slumber owns its gentle tone , Till consciousness will vainly wake To listen , though the dream be flown . 4 . Sweet Thyrza ...
... voice I would not hear , A voice that now might well be still , Yet oft my doubting soul ' twill shake : Ev'n slumber owns its gentle tone , Till consciousness will vainly wake To listen , though the dream be flown . 4 . Sweet Thyrza ...
Сторінка 99
... voice and eye alone direct The boundless power to cherish or reject ; If e'er frivolity has led to fame , And made us blush that you forbore to blame ; If e'er the sinking stage could condescend To soothe the sickly taste , it dare not ...
... voice and eye alone direct The boundless power to cherish or reject ; If e'er frivolity has led to fame , And made us blush that you forbore to blame ; If e'er the sinking stage could condescend To soothe the sickly taste , it dare not ...
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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!