The Real Lord Byron: New Views of the Poet's Life, Volume 2Hurst and Blackett, 1883 |
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affair Allegra Argostoli Augusta AUTHOR OF JOHN biographer Blessington Bologna Byron wrote Canto Carbonari cause Cephalonia cicisbeo circumstances Claire Count Guiccioli Countess Countess Guiccioli course death deed delight desire destruction England English epistle favour feeling friends genius Genoa gentleman Greece Greek Hobhouse honour hope Hoppner humour Hunt's husband imagined interest Italian Italy JOHN HALIFAX knew Lady Blessington Lady Byron Lady Caroline Lamb Leghorn Leigh Hunt less letter literary living London Lord Byron Madame Marianna matter Mavrocordatos Medwin Memoirs ment Metaxata Missolonghi months Moore Moore's Murray nature ness never novel opinion Palazzo passion persons Pietro Gamba Pisa poet poet's publisher purpose quarrel Ravenna readers regarded respect Romagnese Shelley sister sister-in-law society speak story Suliotes temper Teresa Guiccioli thing thou thought thousand guineas tion told Trelawny truth Venetian Venice villa vols whilst wife wife's Wilmot Horton wish woman words writing written
Popular passages
Page 249 - The sword, the banner, and the field, Glory and Greece, around me see! The Spartan, borne upon his shield, Was not more free. Awake! (not Greece — she is awake!) Awake, my spirit!
Page 250 - Tread those reviving passions down, Unworthy manhood! — unto thee Indifferent should the smile or frown Of beauty be. If thou regret'st thy youth, why live? The land of honourable death Is here: — up to the field, and give Away thy breath! Seek out — less often sought than found — A soldier's grave, for thee the best; Then look around and choose thy ground, And take thy rest.
Page 96 - But all this is too late. I love you, and you love me, — at least, you say so, and act as if you did so, which last is a great consolation in all events. But /more than love you, and cannot cease to love you. " Think of me, sometimes, when the Alps and the ocean divide us, — but they never will, unless you wish it.
Page 249 - Tis time this heart should be unmoved, Since others it hath ceased to move: Yet, though I cannot be beloved, Still let me love! My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone! The fire that on my bosom preys Is lone as some volcanic isle; No torch is kindled at its blaze — A funeral pile.
Page 84 - River*, that rollest by the ancient walls, ' Where dwells the lady of my love, when she • Walks by thy brink, and there perchance recalls ' A faint and fleeting memory of me ; ' What if thy deep and ample stream should be ' A mirror of my heart, where she may read " The thousand thoughts I now betray to thee.
Page 96 - the following remarkable note : — ' " My dearest Teresa, — I have read this book in your garden ; — lay love, you were absent, or else I could not have read it. It is a favourite book of yours, and the writer was a friend of mine. You. .will not understand these English words, and others will not understand them, — which is the reason I have not scrawled them in Italian.
Page 73 - They made me, without my search, a species of popular idol ; they, without reason or judgment, beyond the caprice of their good pleasure, threw down the image from its pedestal ; it was not broken with the fall, and they would, it seems, again replace it, — but they shall not. " You ask about my health : about the beginning of the year I was in a state of great exhaustion, attended by such debility of stomach that nothing remained upon it ; and I was obliged to reform my ' way of life,' which was...
Page 49 - His passions and his powers are incomparably greater than those of other men, and instead of the latter having been employed in curbing the former, they have mutually lent each other strength. His ambition preys upon itself, for want of objects which it can consider worthy of exertion.
Page 163 - I would just hint, that you may sometimes mistake the depth of cold anger for dignity, and a worse feeling for duty. I assure you that I bear you now (whatever I may have done) no resentment whatever. Remember, that if you have injured me in aught, this forgiveness is something ; and that if I have injured you, it is something more still, if it be true, as the moralists say, that the most offending are the least forgiving.
Page 50 - The following morn was rainy, cold, and dim: Ere Maddalo arose I called on him, And whilst I waited, with his child I played; A lovelier toy sweet Nature never made; A serious, subtle, wild, yet gentle being; Graceful without design, and unforeseeing; With eyes — Oh ! speak not of her eyes I which seem Twin mirrors of Italian Heaven, yet gleam With such deep meaning as we never see But in the human countenance.