The Works of Lord Byron: Letters, 1804-1813, Volym 1 |
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The Works of Lord Byron: Letters, 1804-1813, Volym 1 George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1896 |
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acquaintance admire already alterations answer appearance arrived Athens beautiful believe Byron Cambridge Constantinople copy course DALLAS dear death Drury edition England English expect feel gave give Greek hands happy hear heard Hobhouse Hodgson honour hope John kind Lady late least leave less letter lines lived London look Lord Malta manner matter mean meet mind Miss months Moore mother Murray never Newstead Newstead Abbey once Pacha particularly passage passed perhaps person poem poor Pray present printed probably published received respect Review seen sent short sincerely soon Street suppose taken talk tell thing thought told town travelling verse volume week whole wish write written wrote
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Sida 384 - Ward has no heart, they say; but I deny it. He has a heart, and gets his speeches by it.
Sida 378 - FAINTLY as tolls the evening chime Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. Soon as the woods on shore look dim, We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn. Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The rapids are near and the daylight's past.
Sida 335 - Oh never talk again to me Of northern climes and British ladies, It has not been your lot to see, Like me, the lovely girl of Cadiz. Although her eye be not of blue, Nor fair her locks, like English lasses, How far its own expressive hue The languid azure eye surpasses I 2.
Sida 413 - LINES TO A LADY WEEPING.* WEEP, daughter of a royal line, A Sire's disgrace, a realm's decay ; Ah ! happy if each tear of thine Could wash a father's fault away ! Weep — for thy tears are Virtue's tears — Auspicious to these suffering isles ; And be each drop in future years Repaid thee by thy people's smiles ! THE CHAIN I GAVE.
Sida 322 - Hobhouse muttering fearful curses, As the hatchway down he rolls, Now his breakfast, now his verses, Vomits forth — and damns our souls. " Here's a stanza On Braganza — Help !" — " A couplet?"—" No, a cup Of warm water — " " What's the matter?" " Zounds ! my liver's coming up ; I shall not survive the racket Of this brutal Lisbon Packet.
Sida 368 - Science' self destroy'd her favourite son ! Yes, she too much indulged thy fond pursuit, She sow'd the seeds, but death has reap'd the fruit. 'Twas thine own genius gave the...
Sida 305 - Near this spot Are deposited the Remains Of one Who Possessed Beauty Without Vanity, Strength without Insolence, Courage without Ferocity, And all the Virtues of Man Without his Vices. This Praise, which would be unmeaning flattery If inscribed over Human Ashes, Is but a just tribute to the Memory of "Boatswain," a Dog Who was born at Newfoundland, May, 1803, And died at Newstead Abbey Nov. 18, 1808.
Sida 203 - He was pleased to coincide, and to dwell on the description of your Jameses as no less royal than poetical. He spoke alternately of Homer and yourself, and seemed well acquainted with both ; so that (with the exception of the Turks 2 and your humble servant) you were in very good company.
Sida 436 - Hunt does one harm by making fine things petty, and beautiful things hateful. Through him I am indifferent to Mozart, I care not for white Busts — and many a glorious thing when associated with him becomes a nothing.
Sida 465 - Having the advantage of him in that respect, and possessing a good competent share of such reading as is little read, I was sometimes able to put under his eye objects which had for him the interest of novelty. I remember particularly repeating to him the fine poem of Hardyknute...