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Abbot Albania Alfaqui Alhama Alhambra answer'd art thou Astarte Athens beautiful behold beneath blood bosom breast breath bright brow Chamois charm clay clouds cold dare dark dead death deem'd deep despair didst dost doth dread dream dwell earth eyes fame Farewell feel Ferrara fire from heaven gaze glory Granada grave grief hand hath hear heaven hour immortal King light live lonely look LORD BYRON Manfred Manuel Mariamne mind mirth monarch mortal mountain mourn ne'er never night once pain pang pass'd Pindus ROMAIC SCENE shine sigh silent sleep smile song Sorrow soul Sparta Spirit star stood sunbow's sweet tears thee thine things thou art thou hast thou wert thought throne Thyrza thyself torture tremble Twas twere twill voice WALKS IN BEAUTY wandering wave weep Witch wither'd words wouldst youth
Сторінка 72 - 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 70 - There were giants in the earth in those days ; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown.
Сторінка 25 - It is not noon — the sunbow's rays ' still arch The torrent with the many hues of heaven, And roll the sheeted silver's waving column O'er the crag's headlong perpendicular, And fling its lines of foaming light along, And to and fro, like the pale courser's tail, The Giant steed, to be bestrode by Death, As told in the Apocalypse.
Сторінка 44 - Hear me, hear me — Astarte ! my beloved ! speak to me : I have so much endured, so much endure — Look on me ! the grave hath not changed thee more Than I am changed for thee. Thou lovedst me Too much, as I loved thee: we were not made To torture thus each other, though it were The deadliest sin to love as we have loved.
Сторінка 166 - 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: It is enough for me to prove That what I loved, and long must love, Like common earth can rot; To me there needs no stone to tell, Tis nothing that I loved so well.
Сторінка 211 - FARE thee well! and if for ever, Still for ever, fare thee well: Even though unforgiving, never 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. Would that breast were bared before thee Where thy head so oft hath lain, While that placid sleep came o'er thee Which thou ne'er canst know again: Would that breast, by thee glanced over, Every inmost thought could show!
Сторінка 237 - The palaces of crowned kings - the huts, The habitations of all things which dwell, Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed, And men were gather'd round their blazing homes To look once more into each other's face...
Сторінка 243 - Not by the sport of nature, but of man: These two, a maiden and a youth, were there Gazing — the one on all that was beneath Fair as herself — but the boy gazed on her; And both were young, and one was beautiful; And both were young, yet not alike in youth. As the sweet moon...
Сторінка 60 - Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome ; The trees which grew along the broken arches Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars Shone through the rents of ruin ; from afar The watchdog bay'd beyond the Tiber ; and More near from out the Caesars...