Hebrew MelodiesJohn Murray, 1815 - 53 sider |
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Side 17
... the strain be wild and deep , Nor let thy notes of joy be first : I tell thee , minstrel , I must weep , Or else this heavy heart will burst ; For it hath been by sorrow nurst , And ach'd HEBREW MELODIES . 17 My soul is dark.
... the strain be wild and deep , Nor let thy notes of joy be first : I tell thee , minstrel , I must weep , Or else this heavy heart will burst ; For it hath been by sorrow nurst , And ach'd HEBREW MELODIES . 17 My soul is dark.
Side 23
... note is heard ; It is the hour when lovers ' vows Seem sweet in every whispered word ; And gentle winds and waters near Make music to the lonely ear . Each flower the dews have lightly wet , And in the sky the stars are met ; And on the ...
... note is heard ; It is the hour when lovers ' vows Seem sweet in every whispered word ; And gentle winds and waters near Make music to the lonely ear . Each flower the dews have lightly wet , And in the sky the stars are met ; And on the ...
Side 54
... the sun , 1030 The clouds beneath him seemed so dun ; Their smoke assailed his startled beak , And made him higher soar and shriek- Thus was Corinth lost and won ! NOTES . Note 1 , page 9 , line 3 54 THE SIEGE OF CORINTH .
... the sun , 1030 The clouds beneath him seemed so dun ; Their smoke assailed his startled beak , And made him higher soar and shriek- Thus was Corinth lost and won ! NOTES . Note 1 , page 9 , line 3 54 THE SIEGE OF CORINTH .
Side 55
George Gordon Byron Baron Byron. NOTES . Note 1 , page 9 , line 3 . The Turcoman hath left his herd . The life of the Turcomans is wandering and patriarchal : they dwell in tents . Note 2 , page 11 , line 17 . Coumourgi - he whose ...
George Gordon Byron Baron Byron. NOTES . Note 1 , page 9 , line 3 . The Turcoman hath left his herd . The life of the Turcomans is wandering and patriarchal : they dwell in tents . Note 2 , page 11 , line 17 . Coumourgi - he whose ...
Side 56
... Note 5 , page 26 , line 14.` The bodies And each scalp had a single long tuft of hair . This tuft , or long lock , is left from a superstition that Mahomet will draw them into Paradise by it . Note 6 , page 29 , line 3 . I must here ...
... Note 5 , page 26 , line 14.` The bodies And each scalp had a single long tuft of hair . This tuft , or long lock , is left from a superstition that Mahomet will draw them into Paradise by it . Note 6 , page 29 , line 3 . I must here ...
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behold beneath blood Bonnivard bosom breast breath bright brow Chillon cloud cold Corinth dark Darvell dead death deed deep doom doth dream dungeon earth eternal eyes falchions fame fear feel fell felt gazed Geneve glance glory grave Greece grew hand hath heard heart heaven Hetman hill hope hour knew light limbs look LORD BYRON maid Mariamne Mazeppa Minotti monarch Moslem ne'er never night nought numbers o'er pain Parisina pass'd POEM PRISONER OF CHILLON rolls Romania rose round sate scarce seem'd shines shone shore SIEGE OF CORINTH sigh silent SIR PETER PARKER sire sleep smile song soul sound spirit stars steed stone stood sweet sword tears thee thine things thou art thought thousand turban Turcoman Twas Venice voice wall wandered waves weep wept wild winds wished for wings withered
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Side 4 - 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.
Side 46 - The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
Side 4 - 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.
Side 47 - Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen; Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd; And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still...
Side 49 - 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...
Side 14 - Was as a mockery of the tomb, Whose tints as gently sunk away As a departing rainbow's ray ; An eye of most transparent light, That almost made the dungeon bright, And not a word of murmur, not A groan o'er his untimely lot, — A little talk of better days, A little hope my own...
Side 52 - TITAN ! to whose immortal eyes The sufferings of mortality, Seen in their sad reality, Were not as things that gods despise ; What was thy pity's recompense ? A silent suffering, and intense ; The rock, the vulture, and the chain, All that the proud can feel of pain...
Side 38 - The dread of vanish'd shadows. Are they so ? Is not the past all shadow ! What are they ' Creations of the mind ? The mind can make Substance, and people planets of its own With beings brighter than have been, — and give A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.
Side 37 - A thousand horse, and none to ride ! With flowing tail, and flying mane, Wide nostrils never...
Side 40 - Which colour'd all his objects:— he had ceased To live within himself; she was his life, The ocean to the river of his thoughts, Which terminated all: upon a tone, A touch of hers, his blood would ebb and flow, And his cheek change tempestuously— his heart Unknowing of its cause of agony. But she in these fond feelings had no share: Her sighs were not for him; to her he was Even as a brother— but no more...