Letters and Journals of Lord Byron: With Notices of His Life, Volumen2

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John Murray, Albemarle-Street, 1831 - 823 páginas

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Página 17 - It is the hush of night, and all between Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, yet clear, Mellow'd and mingling, yet distinctly seen. Save darken'd Jura, whose capt heights appear Precipitously steep; and drawing near, There breathes a living fragrance from the shore, Of flowers yet fresh with childhood ; on the ear Drops the light drip of the suspended oar, Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol more...
Página 27 - My sister ! my sweet sister ! if a name Dearer and purer were, it should be thine ; Mountains and seas divide us, but I claim No tears, but tenderness to answer mine : Go where I will, to me thou art the same — A loved regret which I would not resign. There yet are two things in my destiny, — A world to roam through, and a home with thee.
Página 29 - I feel almost at times as I have felt In happy childhood; trees, and flowers, and brooks, Which do remember me of where I dwelt Ere my young mind was sacrificed to books, Come as of yore upon me, and can melt My heart with recognition of their looks; And even at moments I could think I see Some living thing to love— but none like thee.
Página 562 - Hanson, and the survivor of them, and the heirs and assigns of such survivor...
Página 26 - Though thy slumber may be deep, Yet thy spirit shall not sleep, There are shades which will not vanish, There are thoughts thou canst not banish ; By a power to thee unknown, Thou canst never be alone ; Thou art wrapt as with a shroud, Thou art gathered in a cloud ; And for ever shalt thou dwell In the spirit of this spell.
Página 530 - The Pilgrim of Eternity, whose fame Over his living head like Heaven is bent, An early but enduring monument...
Página 30 - The world is all before me; I but ask Of Nature that with which she will comply — It is but in her summer's sun to bask, To mingle with the quiet of her sky, To see her gentle face without a mask, And never gaze on it with apathy.
Página 102 - With regard to poetry in general, I am convinced, the more I think of it, that he and all of us— Scott, Southey, Wordsworth, Moore, Campbell, I, — are all in the wrong, one as much as another; that we are upon a wrong revolutionary poetical system, or systems, not worth a damn in itself, and from which none but Rogers and Crabbe are free; and that the present and next generations will finally be of this opinion.
Página 195 - Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down Over the waste of waters ; like a veil, Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail. Thus to their hopeless eyes...
Página 30 - I can reduce all feelings but this one; And that I would not; — for at length I see Such scenes as those wherein my life begun. The earliest — even the only paths for me — Had I but sooner learnt the crowd to shun, I had been better than I now can be; The passions which have torn me would have slept; / had not suffer'd, and thou hadst not wept.

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