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answer appeared asked believe Bowles Byron called Canto character copy course criticism DEAR death edition effect England English fact feel five friends give given hands hear heard Hobhouse hope interest Italian Italy January John Murray Juan kind Lady late least less letter lines living London look Lord Lord Byron March matter mean Memoirs mind Moore nature never observations once opinion original passage passions perhaps person play poem poet poetical poetry Pope Pray present printed probably published Ravenna reason received recollect respect Review seems seen sent Shelley speak suppose sure taken talk tell thing Thomas thought told tragedy translation true whole wish write written wrote
Page 532 - His spear, to equal which the tallest pine Hewn on Norwegian hills to be the mast Of some great ammiral, were but a wand.
Page 247 - So the struck Eagle, stretched upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart, And winged the shaft that quivered in his heart ; Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel He nursed the pinion which impelled the steel ; While the same plumage that had warmed his nest Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast.
Page 532 - He scarce had ceased when the superior Fiend Was moving toward the shore, his ponderous shield, Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, Behind him cast. The broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening, from the top of Fesole, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, 290 Rivers or mountains in her spotty globe.
Page 270 - The morning precious: beauty was awake! Why were ye not awake? But ye were dead To things ye knew not of, — were closely wed To musty laws lined out with wretched rule And compass vile: so that ye taught a school Of dolts to smooth, inlay, and clip, and fit, Till, like the certain wands of Jacob's wit, Their verses tallied.
Page 553 - Through woods and meads, in shade and sun Sometimes swift, sometimes slow, Wave succeeding wave, they go A various journey to the deep, Like human life, to endless sleep ! Thus is Nature's vesture wrought; To instruct our wandering thought; Thus she dresses green and gay, To disperse our cares away.
Page 548 - Solitude, romantic maid ! Whether by nodding towers you tread ; Or haunt the desert's trackless gloom, Or hover o'er the yawning tomb ; Or climb the Andes' clifted side, Or by the Nile's coy source abide : Or, starting from your half-year's sleep, From Hecla view the thawing deep : Or, at the purple dawn of day, Tadmor's marble wastes survey." observing,
Page 566 - Looking tranquillity ! It strikes an awe And terror on my aching sight ; the tombs And monumental caves of death look cold, And shoot a chilness to my trembling heart.
Page 468 - 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 164 - In health, in sickness, thus the suppliant prays; Hides from himself his state, and shuns to know, That life protracted is protracted woe. Time hovers o'er, impatient to destroy, And shuts up all the passages of joy: In vain their gifts the bounteous seasons pour, The fruit autumnal, and the vernal...