Letters & Journals of Lord Byron: With Notices of His Life, Volume 3

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Page 162 - A cherub's face, a reptile all the rest. Beauty that shocks you, parts that none will trust, Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust.
Page 622 - The above instrument, consisting of one sheet, was at the date thereof signed, sealed, published and declared by the said 0 ohn Forsythe, as and for his last will and testament, in presence of us, who at his request, and in his presence, and in the presence of each other, have subscribed our names as witnesses thereto.
Page 491 - 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 298 - Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story ; . The days of our youth are the days of our glory ; And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.
Page 281 - Not happy, in thy death thou surely wert, Thy wish accomplished ; dying in the land Where thy young mind had caught ethereal fire, Dying in Greece, and in a cause so glorious ! They in thy train — ah, little did they think, As round we went, that they so soon should sit Mourning beside thee, while a Nation...
Page 492 - 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 224 - I,' says the Quarterly, So savage and Tartarly ; ' 'Twas one of my feats.' • Who shot the arrow ?' • The poet-priest Milman, ' (So ready to kill man,)
Page 619 - I direct that they, my said trustees and the survivor of them, and the executors and administrators of such survivor...
Page 491 - No torch is kindled at its blaze A funeral pile. The hope, the fear, the jealous care, The exalted portion of the pain And power of love, I cannot share, But wear the chain. But 'tis not thus - and 'tis not here Such thoughts should shake my soul, nor now, Where glory decks the hero's bier, Or binds his brow. The sword, the banner, and the field, Glory and Greece, around me see ! The Spartan, borne upon his shield, Was not more free.
Page 137 - Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn." ["There scattered oft, the earliest of the year, By hands unseen, are showers of violets found ; The redbreast loves to build and warble there, And little footsteps lightly print the ground.

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