Autres éditions - Tout afficher
Adah arms bear beautiful beneath better blood bosom breast breath bright brow Byron Cain clouds dare dark dead dear death deeds deep dread dream earth face fair fall fame fate father fear feel fire foes gaze give gone grave hand hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hope hour knew least leave less light lips live look Lord Lucifer meet mind mortal nature ne'er never night o'er once pass passion past poem raised rest rise round scarce scene seem'd seems seen shore sigh sleep smile song soul sound speak spirit star sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought true truth turn twas voice wall wave wild wind wing young youth
Page 501 - Place me on Sunium's marbled steep, Where nothing, save the waves and I, May hear our mutual murmurs sweep; There, swan-like, let me sing and die: A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine— Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!
Page 500 - Must we but blush? — Our fathers bled. Earth! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead ! Of the three hundred grant but three, To make a new Thermopylae!
Page 499 - Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave. A king sate on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis; And ships, by thousands, lay below, And men in nations; - all were his! He counted them at break of day And when the sun set where were they?
Page 351 - Deserved to be dearest of all : In the desert a fountain is springing, In the wide waste there still is a tree, And a bird in the solitude singing, Which speaks to my spirit of thee.
Page 512 - Ave Maria ! blessed be the hour ! The time, the clime, the spot, where I so oft Have felt that moment in its fullest power Sink o'er the earth so beautiful and soft, While swung the deep bell in the distant tower. Or the faint dying day-hymn stole aloft, And not a breath crept through the rosy air, And yet the forest leaves seem'd stirr'd with prayer.
Page 318 - THERE'S not a joy the world can give like that it takes away When the glow of early thought declines In feeling's dull decay; 'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so fast, But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be past.
Page 360 - And they were enemies: they met beside The dying embers of an altar-place Where had been heap'da mass of holy things For an unholy usage; they raked up, And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath Blew for a little life, and made a flame Which was a mockery; then they lifted up Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld Each other's aspects — saw, and shriek'd, and died — Even of their mutual hideousness they died, Unknowing who he was upon whose...
Page 339 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard ! — May none those marks efface ! For they appeal from tyranny to God.