The works of the rt. hon. lord Byron, Volym 3R. W. Pomeroy, 1824 |
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abbot aught Avogadori behold Beltramo Bertram blood Bonnivard breath brow call'd Capi cause che fu chief Consiglieri Consiglio Cortana council council of ten death detto Dieci Doge Doge of Venice doom ducal duke earth eyes father fear feel furono gate Giovanni Giunta hath head heart heaven hell honour hour Israel king knew less liero limbs Lioni live lord Marco Marco Giustiniani Marino Faliero Mazeppa Messer Michel Steno Morgante ne'er never Niccolo Nicoletto night noble nought o'er once Orlando palace passions patrician Petrarch Philip Calendaro Pietro prince proud quale Saint Mark's Saint Peter Sathan seem'd senate sentence Sestiero shame siege of Zara Signor soul speak spirit sword thee thine things thou hast thought thousand throne tomb traitor Treviso Trivisano twas unto Venice voice words wrath
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Sida 176 - And in each pillar there is a ring, And in each ring there is a chain; That iron is a cankering thing, For in these limbs its teeth remain, With marks that will not wear away...
Sida 185 - I thought of this, and I was glad, For thought of them had made me mad ; But I was curious to ascend To my barr'd windows, and to bend Once more, upon the mountains high, The quiet of a loving eye.
Sida 187 - These heavy walls to me had grown A hermitage — and all my own ! And half I felt as they were come To tear me from a second home : With spiders I had friendship made, And watch'd them in their sullen trade...
Sida 178 - Lake Leman lies by Chillon's walls: A thousand feet in depth below Its massy waters meet and flow; Thus much the fathom-line was sent From Chillon's snow-white battlement, Which round about the wave enthralls: A double dungeon wall and wave Have made — and like a living grave.
Sida 182 - The last, the sole, the dearest link Between me and the eternal brink, Which bound me to my failing race, Was broken in this fatal place.
Sida 187 - With spiders I had friendship made, And watched them in their sullen trade; Had seen the mice by moonlight play — And why should I feel less than they? We were all inmates of one place, And I, the monarch of each race, Had power to kill; yet, strange to tell! In quiet we had learned to dwell. My very chains and I grew friends, So much a long communion tends To make us what we are: — even I Regained my freedom with a sigh.
Sida 179 - A double dungeon wall and wave Have made — and like a living grave. Below the surface of the lake The dark vault lies wherein we lay, We heard it ripple night and day; Sounding o'er our heads it...
Sida 180 - Like brutes within an iron den ; But what were these to us or him? These wasted not his heart or limb ; My brother's soul was of that mould Which in a palace had grown cold, Had his free breathing been denied The range of the steep mountain's side; But why delay the truth?
Sida 187 - It might be months, or years, or days, I kept no count — I took no note, I had no hope my eyes to raise And clear them of their dreary mote ; At last men came to set me free...
Sida 175 - But rusted with a vile repose, For they have been a dungeon's spoil, And mine has been the fate of those To whom the goodly earth and air Are...