Byron and the Times; Or, An Apology for Don Juan ...

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Stock, 1867 - 160 Seiten
 

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Seite xi - Above me are the Alps, The palaces of Nature, whose vast walls Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps, And throned Eternity in icy halls Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls The avalanche — the thunderbolt of snow ! All that expands the spirit, yet appals, Gather around these summits, as to show How Earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave vain man below, LXIII.
Seite 12 - All heaven and earth are still — though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most; And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep...
Seite 119 - Between two worlds life hovers like a star, 'Twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge. How little do we know that which we are ! How less what we may be ! The eternal surge Of time and tide rolls on, and bears afar Our bubbles ; as the old burst, new emerge, Lash'd from the foam of ages ; while the graves Of empires heave but like some passing waves.
Seite xv - 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!
Seite 10 - Ave Maria! blessed be the hour, The time, the clime, the spot, where I so oft Have felt that moment in its fullest power Sink o'er the earth so beautiful and soft...
Seite x - Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part Of me and of my soul, as I of them?
Seite 125 - Stillingfleet, 2 whose dress was remarkably grave, and in particular it was observed that he wore blue stockings. Such was the excellence of his conversation, that his absence was felt as so great a loss, that it used to be said, " We can do nothing without the blue stockings; and thus by degrees the title was established.
Seite 141 - I do seriously, and upon good grounds, affirm it possible to make a flying chariot, in which a man may sit, and give such a motion unto it, as shall convey him through the air.
Seite 60 - They accuse me — Me — the present writer of The present poem — of— I know not what — A tendency to underrate and scoff At human power and virtue, and all that : And this they say in language rather rough. Good God ! I wonder what they would be at ! I say no more than hath been said in Dante's Verse, and by Solomon and by Cervantes ; IV.
Seite xi - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore. There is society where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not man the less, but nature more...

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