Selections from the writings of lord Byron, by a clergyman [W. Elwin]. |
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... wild Irish- man , named Farrell , one evening beginning to say something at a large supper at Cambridge , Matthews roared out " Silence ! " and then , pointing to Farrell , cried out , in the words of the oracle , “ Orson is endowed ...
... wild Irish- man , named Farrell , one evening beginning to say something at a large supper at Cambridge , Matthews roared out " Silence ! " and then , pointing to Farrell , cried out , in the words of the oracle , “ Orson is endowed ...
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... wild man , of a salvage appearance , and the difficulty of not laughing at him was only to be got over by reflecting upon the probable consequences of such cachinnation . - To Mr. Moore , Oct. 28 , 1815 . LORD BYRON AND THE COMMITTEE ...
... wild man , of a salvage appearance , and the difficulty of not laughing at him was only to be got over by reflecting upon the probable consequences of such cachinnation . - To Mr. Moore , Oct. 28 , 1815 . LORD BYRON AND THE COMMITTEE ...
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... wild , and , as I could not write for my- self , became my secretary . I remember , too , our walks , and the happiness of sitting by Mary , in the children's apartment , at their house not far from the Plain - stones , at Aberdeen ...
... wild , and , as I could not write for my- self , became my secretary . I remember , too , our walks , and the happiness of sitting by Mary , in the children's apartment , at their house not far from the Plain - stones , at Aberdeen ...
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... wild country disappointing . I was disposed to be pleased . I am a lover of nature and an admirer of beauty . I can bear fatigue and welcome privation , and have seen some of the noblest views in the world . But in all this - the ...
... wild country disappointing . I was disposed to be pleased . I am a lover of nature and an admirer of beauty . I can bear fatigue and welcome privation , and have seen some of the noblest views in the world . But in all this - the ...
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... wild and strange places to which a name may penetrate , and where it may impress . Two years ago ( almost three , being in August or July , 1819 , ) I received at Ravenna a letter in English verse , from Drontheim in Norway , written by ...
... wild and strange places to which a name may penetrate , and where it may impress . Two years ago ( almost three , being in August or July , 1819 , ) I received at Ravenna a letter in English verse , from Drontheim in Norway , written by ...
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Selections from the Writings of Lord Byron, by a Clergyman [W. Elwin] George Gordon N Byron (6th Baron ) Приказ није доступан - 2015 |
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Anah Armenia Auld Lang Syne beauty beneath blue breast breath brow calm CHARLES SKINNER CHILDE HAROLD.-Canto CORSAIR dark dash dead death deep desolate DON JUAN dream earth Edinburgh Review fame father fear feel foam foes friends gaze gentle GIAOUR glory grave Harrow hath hear heard heart heaven honour hope hour knew LADY BYRON letter living lone look look'd Lord Byron Madame de Stael mind Moore mountains Murray ne'er never NEWSTEAD ABBEY night o'er once pass'd passion poem poet poetical poetry PRISONER OF CHILLON Ravenna recollect round sail Samian wine scarce scene seem'd Sheridan shine shore SIEGE OF CORINTH sigh smile soul spirit stars steed stood sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought thousand turn'd twas Venice voice walls waters waves weep wild wind wings words
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Страница 11 - Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness : And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
Страница 13 - Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms — the day Battle's magnificently stern array...
Страница 21 - Clear, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction; once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved.
Страница 12 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, — alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass...
Страница 135 - 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.
Страница 91 - It might be months, or years, or days, I kept no count, I took no note, I had no hope my eyes to raise, And clear them of their dreary mote...
Страница 22 - The sky is changed ! — and such a change ! Oh night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman ! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder...
Страница 45 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roll ! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.
Страница 27 - I STOOD in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs ; A palace and a prison on each hand : I saw from out the wave her structures rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand : A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles, Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles...
Страница 27 - In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more, And silent rows the songless gondolier ; Her palaces are crumbling to the shore, And music meets not always now the ear : Those days are gone — but Beauty still is here. States fall, arts fade — but Nature doth not die, Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear, The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy ! IV.