The works of lord Byron: with his letters and journals, and his life, by T. Moore, Τόμος 10

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Δημοφιλή αποσπάσματα

Σελίδα vii - They stood aloof, the scars remaining, Like cliffs, which had been rent asunder; A dreary sea now flows between; But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, Shall wholly do away, I ween, The marks of that which once hath been.
Σελίδα 75 - 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.
Σελίδα 274 - And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp, and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters...
Σελίδα 228 - MY hair is gray, but not with years, Nor grew it white In a single night, As men's have grown from sudden fears: My limbs are bow'd, though not with toil, But rusted with a vile repose, For they have been a dungeon's spoil, And mine has been the fate of those To whom the goodly earth and air Are bann'd, and barr'd — forbidden fare...
Σελίδα 186 - 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 ! Then thou wouldst at last discover 'T was not well to spurn it so.
Σελίδα 232 - A double dungeon wall and wave Have made — and like a living grave, Below the surface of the lake The dark vault lies wherein we lay; We heard it ripple night and day; Sounding o'er our heads it knocked.
Σελίδα 241 - 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; At last men came to set me free...
Σελίδα 237 - No check — no change — no good — no crime — But silence, and a stirless breath Which neither was of life nor death; A sea of stagnant idleness, Blind, boundless, mute, and motionless!
Σελίδα 187 - Yet, oh yet, thyself deceive not; Love may sink by slow decay, But by sudden wrench, believe not Hearts can thus be torn away: Still thine own its life retaineth, Still must mine, though bleeding, beat; And the undying thought which paineth Is — that we no more may meet.
Σελίδα 272 - THERE be none of Beauty's daughters With a magic like thee ; And like music on the waters Is thy sweet voice to me...

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