The Works of Lord Byron, Volym 1

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Sida 237 - Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness ; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs, Which ne'er might be repeated...
Sida 236 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street : On with the dance ! let joy be unconfined ; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing hours with flying feet...
Sida 238 - Cameron's gathering" rose ! The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard too have her Saxon foes: — How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, Savage and shrill ! But with the breath which fills Their...
Sida 253 - The castled crag of Drachenfels Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, Whose breast of waters broadly swells Between the banks which bear the vine, And hills all rich with blossom'd trees, And fields which promise corn and wine, And scatter'd cities crowning these, Whose far white walls along them shine, Have strew'da scene, which I should see With double joy wert thou with me.
Sida 228 - Tis to create, and in creating live A being more intense, that we endow With form our fancy, gaining as we give The life we image, even as I do now.
Sida 88 - But midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess, And roam along, the world's tired denizen, With none who bless us, none whom we can bless; Minions of splendour shrinking from distress ! None that, with kindred consciousness endued, If we were not, would seem to smile the less Of all that flattered, followed, sought and sued ; This is to be alone; this, this is solitude!
Sida 263 - I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me; and to me, High mountains are a feeling, but the hum Of human cities torture...
Sida 117 - Hereditary bondsmen ! know ye not Who would be free themselves must strike the blow ? By their right arms the conquest must be wrought ? Will Gaul or Muscovite redress ye ? no ! True, they may lay your proud despoilers low, But not for you will Freedom's altars flame.
Sida 226 - Once more upon the waters! yet once more! And the waves bound beneath me as a steed That knows his rider.
Sida 271 - Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven ! If in your bright leaves we would read the fate Of men and empires, — 'tis to be forgiven, That in our aspirations to be great, Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, And claim a kindred with you ; for ye are A beauty and a mystery, and create In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star.

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