The Works of Lord Byron: Letters, 1804-1813, Volym 1W. Heinemann, 1896 - 469 sidor |
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Sida viii
... one should know something of the aims and lives and person- alities of contemporary men and women , with some- thing of the social and political conditions which made him and his triumph possible . I cannot believe viii LETTERS.
... one should know something of the aims and lives and person- alities of contemporary men and women , with some- thing of the social and political conditions which made him and his triumph possible . I cannot believe viii LETTERS.
Sida ix
... believe that this first instalment , for all its bulk , will go far towards the accomplishment of such an end . But I confess to cherishing a hope that , by the time I have finished my task , I shall be found to have formed a collection ...
... believe that this first instalment , for all its bulk , will go far towards the accomplishment of such an end . But I confess to cherishing a hope that , by the time I have finished my task , I shall be found to have formed a collection ...
Sida 2
... Messrs . Angelo , junior , and believe me , we will yet humble this impertinent bourgeois . I remain , Sir , your obedient servant , BYRON . TO MR . PIGOT 16 Piccadilly , August 9 , 2 LETTERS 1806 May 16 TO HENRY ANGelo, Aug.
... Messrs . Angelo , junior , and believe me , we will yet humble this impertinent bourgeois . I remain , Sir , your obedient servant , BYRON . TO MR . PIGOT 16 Piccadilly , August 9 , 2 LETTERS 1806 May 16 TO HENRY ANGelo, Aug.
Sida 7
... You will excuse the dull vanity of this epistle , as my brain is a chaos of absurd images , and full of business , preparations , and projects . I shall expect an answer with impatience ; -believe me 7 TO MR . PIGOT.
... You will excuse the dull vanity of this epistle , as my brain is a chaos of absurd images , and full of business , preparations , and projects . I shall expect an answer with impatience ; -believe me 7 TO MR . PIGOT.
Sida 8
... believe me , there is nothing at this moment could give me greater delight than your letter . TO MR . PIGOT London , August 18 , 1806 . vii I am just on the point of setting off for Worthing , and write merely to request you will send ...
... believe me , there is nothing at this moment could give me greater delight than your letter . TO MR . PIGOT London , August 18 , 1806 . vii I am just on the point of setting off for Worthing , and write merely to request you will send ...
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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 admired Albanian Albemarle Street Ali Pacha altered answer Athens believe Cadiz Cambridge canto Childe Harold Constantinople copy couplet DALLAS Davies dear Drury edition England English Bards epistle expect favour feel Fletcher frigate George Anson Byron Giaour Gibraltar Gifford Greece Greek Hanson happy Harrow hear heard Hobhouse Hodgson honour hope James's Street Lady late least lines London Lord Byron LORD HOLLAND Lordship Malta MISS PIGOT Moore Morea Murray never Newstead Abbey Note to Letter Notts obliged Pacha Patras perhaps person pleasure poem poet poetical praise Pray present published received regret Review rhymes Rochdale Rogers Scrope seen sent Sept servant Sestos to Abydos sincerely sorry Southwell stanzas suppose talk tell thing tion town travelling Troad trust verse wish write written wrote
Populära avsnitt
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...