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Abbot Alhama Alhambra answer'd art thou Astarte Athens beautiful behold beneath blood breast breath bright brow Chamois Charles XII clay clouds cold dare dark dead death deem'd deep despair dost doth dread dream dwell earth eyes fear feel gaze glance glory Granada grave grief hand hath hear heart heaven Hetman hope hour immortal King knew light limbs live lonely look LORD BYRON Manfred Mariamne Mazeppa mind monarch MONODY mortal mountains mourn ne'er never Newstead Abbey night nought o'er once pain pang pass'd Pausanias R. B. SHERIDAN SCENE sigh silent sleep smile song sorrow soul Spirit star steed stood sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thou hast thou wert thought throne thyself torture Twas Twere twill voice waves weep wild Witch wither'd wouldst wretch youth
Page 122 - And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent ! THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
Page 154 - That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed...
Page 72 - It is not noon — the sunbow's rays ' still arch The torrent with the many hues of heaven, And roll the sheeted silver's waving column O'er the crag's headlong perpendicular, And fling its lines of foaming light along, And to and fro, like the pale courser's tail, The Giant steed, to be bestrode by Death, As told in the Apocalypse.
Page 237 - As once I wept, if I could weep My tears might well be shed, To think I was not near to keep One vigil o'er thy bed; To gaze, how fondly ! on thy face, To fold thee in a faint embrace, Uphold thy drooping head; And show that love, however vain, Nor thou nor I can feel again.
Page 320 - They slept on the abyss, without a surge, — The waves were dead : the tides were in their grave: The moon, their mistress, had expired before : The winds were withered in the stagnant air, And the clouds perished: Darkness had no need Of aid from them — she was the universe.
Page 235 - I will not ask where thou liest low, Nor gaze upon the spot; There flowers or weeds at will may grow, So I behold them not: It is enough for me to prove That what I loved, and long must love, Like common earth can rot; To me there needs no stone to tell, Tis nothing that I loved so well.
Page 62 - But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we, Half dust, half deity, alike unfit To sink or soar, with our mix'd essence make A conflict of its elements, and breathe The breath of degradation and of pride, Contending with low wants and lofty will Till our mortality predominates, And men are — what they name not to themselves, And trust not to each other.
Page 130 - Away ; we know that tears are vain, That death nor heeds nor hears distress : Will this unteach us to complain ? Or make one mourner weep the less ? And thou — who tell'st me to forget, Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.