The Works of George Byron: With His Letters and Journals, and His Life, Volume 12

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Page 8 - Poi mi rivolsi a loro, e parla' io, E cominciai: Francesca, i tuoi martiri A lagrimar mi fanno tristo e pio. Ma dimmi: al tempo de' dolci sospiri, A che e come concedette amore, Che conosceste i dubbiosi desiri?
Page 8 - Soli eravamo e senza alcun sospetto. Per più fiate gli occhi ci sospinse Quella lettura, e scolorocci il viso; Ma solo un punto fu quel che ci vinse. Quando leggemmo il disiato riso...
Page 245 - ... footsteps, as with even tread He paced around his prison : not to him Did Nature's fair varieties exist ; He never saw the sun's delightful beams, Save when through yon high bars he pour'da sad And broken splendour.
Page 256 - God save the king!" It is a large economy In God to save the like: but if he will Be saving, all the better; for not one am I Of those who think damnation better still...
Page 20 - Fame! — if I e'er took delight in thy praises, 'Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases, Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover She thought that I was not unworthy to love her. There chiefly I sought thee, there only I found thee; Her glance was the best of the rays that surround thee; When it sparkled o'er aught that was bright in my story, I knew it was love, and I felt it was glory.
Page 295 - For all corrupted things are buoy'd like corks, By their own rottenness, light as an elf, Or wisp that flits o'er a morass: he lurks, It may be, still, like dull books on a shelf, In his own den, to scrawl some 'Life' or 'Vision,' As Welborn says — 'the devil turn'd precisian.
Page 246 - Tothill, or thy street, St. Giles, its fair varieties expand ; Till at the last, in slow-drawn cart, she went To execution. Dost thou ask her crime ? SHE WHIPPED TWO FEMALE 'PRENTICES TO DEATH, AND HID THEM IN THE COAL-HOLE.
Page 15 - Sweet hour of twilight ! — in the solitude Of the pine forest, and the silent shore Which bounds Ravenna's immemorial wood...
Page 309 - ... with all his heart, and with all his soul, and with all his strength, and therefore they loved him as truly and as fervently as he loved England.
Page 118 - They never fail who die In a great cause: the block may soak their gore ;(') Their heads may sodden in the sun ; their limbs Be strung to city gates and castle walls — But still their spirit walks abroad. Though years Elapse, and others share as dark a doom, They but augment the deep and sweeping thoughts Which overpower all others, and conduct The world at last to freedom...

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