The works of lord Byron, comprehending the suppressed poems, Bände 11-12

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Seite 4 - The .angels all were singing out of tune, And hoarse with having little else to do, Excepting to wind up the sun and moon, Or curb a runaway young star or two, Or wild colt of a comet, which too soon Broke out of bounds o'er th' ethereal blue, Splitting some planet with its playful tail, As boats are sometimes by a wanton whale.
Seite 35 - MANY are poets who have never penn'd Their inspiration, and perchance the best : They felt, and loved, and died, but would not lend Their thoughts to meaner beings...
Seite 36 - Many are poets but without the name, For what is poesy but to create From overfeeling good or ill ; and aim At an external life beyond our fate, And be the new Prometheus of new men, Bestowing fire from heaven, and then, too late, Finding the pleasure given repaid with pain, And vultures to the heart of the bestower, Who, having lavish'd his high gift in vain, Lies chain' d to his lone rock by the sea-shore?
Seite 129 - May the grass wither from thy feet ! the woods Deny thee shelter ! earth a home ! the dust A grave ! the sun his light ! and heaven her God ! [f.xit EVE.
Seite 48 - How close and small the hedges lie ! What streaks of meadows cross the eye! A step methinks may pass the stream, So little distant dangers seem ; So we mistake the future's face, Ey'd thro...
Seite 7 - He died! his death made no great stir on earth: His burial made some pomp; there was profusion Of velvet, gilding, brass, and no great dearth Of aught but tears— save those shed by collusion.
Seite 71 - A man may make and create better things than these. I shall not presume to say that Pope is as high a poet as Shakspeare and Milton, though his enemy, Warton, places him immediately under them. I would no more say this than I would assert in the mosque (once Saint Sophia's), that Socrates was a greater man than Mahomet. But if I say that he is very near them, it is no more than has been asserted of Burns, who is supposed " To rival all but Shakspeare's name belo-^v.
Seite 56 - It is the fashion of the day to lay great stress upon what they call "imagination" and "invention", the two commonest of qualities: an Irish peasant with a little whisky in his head will imagine and invent more than would furnish forth a modern poem.
Seite 51 - He had written praises of a regicide; He had written praises of all kings whatever; He had written for republics far and wide, And then against them bitterer than ever; For pantisocracy he once had cried Aloud, a scheme less moral than 'twas clever; Then grew a hearty anti-jacobin — Had turn'd his coat — and would have turn'd his skin.
Seite 7 - In the first year of freedom's second dawn Died George the Third ; although no tyrant, one Who shielded tyrants, till each sense withdrawn Left him nor mental nor external sun...

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