The Works of Lord Byron: Comprising the Suppressed Poems, Volumes 6 à 7

A. and W. Galignani, 1826

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Page 51 - My slumbers — if I slumber — are not sleep, But a continuance of enduring thought, Which then I can resist not : in my heart There is a vigil, and these eyes but close To look within ; and yet I live, and bear The aspect and the form of breathing men. But grief should be the instructor of the wise ;. Sorrow is knowledge : they who know the most Must mourn the deepest o'er the fatal truth, The Tree of Knowledge is not that of Life. Philosophy and science, and the springs Of wonder, and the...
Page 42 - With flowing tail and flying mane, Wide nostrils, never stretched by pain. Mouths bloodless to the bit or rein, And feet that iron never shod, And flanks unscarred by spur or rod, A thousand horse, the wild, the free, Like waves that follow o'er the sea, Came thickly thundering on, As if our faint approach to meet ; The sight renerved my courser's feet.
Page 281 - WTio kindlest and who quenchest suns ! — Attest ! I am not innocent — but are these guiltless? I perish, but not unavenged; far ages Float up from the abyss of time to be, And show these eyes...
Page 221 - Soften'd with the first breathings of the spring; The high moon sails upon her beauteous way, Serenely smoothing o'er the lofty walls Of those tall piles and sea-girt palaces, Whose porphyry pillars, and whose costly fronts, Fraught with the orient spoil of many marbles, Like altars ranged along the broad canal, Seem each a trophy of some mighty deed Rear'd up from out the waters...
Page 32 - Thinks't thou there is no tyranny but that Of blood and chains? The despotism of vice — The weakness and the wickedness of luxury — The negligence — the apathy — the evils Of sensual sloth — produce ten thousand tyrants, MYRRHA. Whose delegated cruelty surpasses The worst acts of one energetic master, However harsh and hard in his own bearing.
Page 74 - My joy was in the Wilderness, to breathe The difficult air of the iced mountain's top, Where the birds dare not build, nor insect's wing Flit o'er the herbless granite ; or to plunge Into the torrent, and to roll along On the swift whirl of the new breaking wave Of river-stream, or ocean, in their flow.
Page 203 - We will renew the times of truth and justice, Condensing in a fair free commonwealth Not rash equality but equal rights, Proportioned like the columns to the temple, Giving and taking strength reciprocal. And making firm the whole with grace and beauty, So that no part could be removed without Infringement of the general symmetry.
Page 109 - The mind which is immortal makes itself Requital for its good or evil thoughts, Is its own origin of ill and end, And its own place and time...
Page 94 - The innate tortures of that deep despair, Which is remorse without the fear of hell But all in all sufficient to itself Would make a hell of heaven, — can exorcise From out the unbounded spirit the quick sense Of its own sins, wrongs, sufferance, and revenge Upon itself; there is' no future pang Can deal that justice on the self-condemn'd He deals on his own soul.
Page 73 - tis but the same; My pang shall find a voice. From my youth upwards My spirit walk'd not with the souls of men, Nor look'd upon the earth with human eyes ; The thirst of their ambition was not mine, The aim of their existence was not mine ; My joys, my griefs, my passions, and my powers, Made me a stranger ; though I wore the form, I had no sympathy with breathing flesh, Nor midst the creatures of clay that girded me Was there but one who but of her anon.

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