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afterwards appeared asked beauty believe Cain called Canto cause character Childe Harold continued death died Don Juan England English eyes father feelings forced gave give hand happened heard heart hope hour idea Italian Italy kind knew Lady Byron least leave length letter lines live look Lord Byron lost married mean mind Moore mother Murray nature never object once party passed passion perhaps person plays poem poet poetry present prove published reason remember replied rest Reviewers seems sent Shelley shew soon speak spirits stage Stanza story suppose sure taken talk tell thing thought till tion told took translate turned Venice whole wish woman women write written wrote young
Page 164 - The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself; * Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, Leave not a wreck behind.
Page 134 - We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him; — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on, In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Page cii - 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!
Page 315 - Round whose rude shaft dark ivy-tresses grew Yet dripping with the forest's noonday dew, Vibrated, as the ever-beating heart Shook the weak hand that grasped it; of that crew He came the last, neglected and apart; A herd-abandoned deer struck by the hunter's dart.
Page 133 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
Page 21 - 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, Wild as thy wave, and headlong as thy speed ! What do I say — a mirror of my heart...
Page 134 - ... misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him.
Page 135 - We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.