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Alhama appear beautiful beneath better blood breast breath bright brow chief cold dared dark dead death deep died dream earth face fall fame fate fear feel fell felt flow gazed give glance glory grave grew half hall hand hath head hear heard heart heaven hope hour human Italy King knew land Lara Lara's least leave less light lines living look Lord Byron lost meet mind never night o'er once pass past poem present rest rose round says scarce seem'd seen share shore side sleep smile soul sound spirit stone stood tears thee thine thing thou thought thousand trace turn twas voice wall waters waves wild wound written youth
Page vii - They stood aloof, the scars remaining, Like cliffs, which had been rent asunder; A dreary sea now flows between; But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, Shall wholly do away, I ween, The marks of that which once hath been.
Page 274 - And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp, and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters...
Page 228 - MY hair is gray, but not with years, Nor grew it white In a single night, As men's have grown from sudden fears: My limbs are bow'd, though not with toil, But rusted with a vile repose, For they have been a dungeon's spoil, And mine has been the fate of those To whom the goodly earth and air Are bann'd, and barr'd — forbidden fare...
Page 186 - FARE thee well! and if for ever, Still for ever, fare thee well : Even though unforgiving, never 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. Would that breast were bared before thee Where thy head so oft hath lain, While that placid sleep came o'er thee Which thou ne'er canst know again : Would that breast, by thee glanced over, Every inmost thought could show ! Then thou wouldst at last discover 'T was not well to spurn it so.
Page 232 - A double dungeon wall and wave Have made — and like a living grave, Below the surface of the lake The dark vault lies wherein we lay; We heard it ripple night and day; Sounding o'er our heads it knocked.
Page 241 - It might be months, or years, or days, I kept no count, I took no note, I had no hope my eyes to raise, And clear them of their dreary mote; At last men came to set me free...
Page 237 - No check — no change — no good — no crime — But silence, and a stirless breath Which neither was of life nor death; A sea of stagnant idleness, Blind, boundless, mute, and motionless!
Page 187 - Yet, oh yet, thyself deceive not; Love may sink by slow decay, But by sudden wrench, believe not Hearts can thus be torn away: Still thine own its life retaineth, Still must mine, though bleeding, beat; And the undying thought which paineth Is — that we no more may meet.