Lord Byron Vindicated: Or, Rome and Her Pilgrim

Priekinis viršelis
Simpkin, Marshall & Company, 1876 - 147 psl.

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Populiarios ištraukos

107 psl. - Let not the land, once proud of him, Insult him now, Nor brand with deeper shame his dim, Dishonored brow. But let its humbled sons, instead, From sea to lake, A long lament, as for the dead, In sadness make...
99 psl. - The vultures to the conqueror's banner true Who feed where Desolation first has fed, And whose wings rain contagion; — how they fled, When, like Apollo, from his golden bow The Pythian of the age one arrow sped And smiled! — The spoilers tempt no second blow, They fawn on the proud feet that spurn them lying low.
68 psl. - Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look, how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold; There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins: Such harmony is in immortal souls; But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
102 psl. - Lord, who shall abide in Thy tabernacle? Who shall dwell in Thy holy hill? He that walketh uprightly, and worketh righteousness, And speaketh the truth in his heart.
121 psl. - So shalt thou rest, and what if thou withdraw In silence from the living, and no friend Take note of thy departure ? All that breathe Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will chase His favorite phantom ; yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come And make their bed with thee.
59 psl. - Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome ; The trees which grew along the broken arches Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars Shone through the rents of ruin ; from afar The watch-dog bayed beyond the Tiber ; and More near from out the Caesars...
125 psl. - If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?
119 psl. - Love took up the harp of life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, passed in music out of sight.
13 psl. - Foul outrage which thou knowest not, which thou shalt never know. Then clasp me round the neck once more, and give me one more kiss; And now mine own dear little girl, there is no way but this." With that he lifted high the steel, and smote her in the side, And in her blood she sank to earth, and with one sob she died.
2 psl. - Clime of the unforgotten brave ! Whose land from plain to mountain-cave Was Freedom's home or Glory's grave ! Shrine of the mighty ! can it be, That this is all remains of thee?

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