The Works of Lord Byron. Vol. 5 Poetry

[346] [Marie Louise, daughter of Francis I. of Austria, was born December 12, 1791, and died December 18, 1849. She was married to Napoleon, April 2, 1810, and gave birth to a s...

[212] ["Sed ante alias [Julius Cæsar] dilexit M. Bruti matrem Serviliam ... dilexit et reginas ... sed maxime Cleopatram" (_ibid._, i. 113, 115). Cleopatra, born B.C. 69, was tw...

_Cain_. Aye, the last-- And longest; but no matter--lead me to him. [_They go up to the child_. How lovely he appears! his little cheeks, 10 In their pure incarnation,[124] vyin...

_Japh._ (_solus_). Ye wilds, that look eternal; and thou cave, Which seem'st unfathomable; and ye mountains, So varied and so terrible in beauty; Here, in your rugged majesty of...

Compare, too, Macaulay on Warren Hastings: "In that temple of silence and reconciliation, where the enmities of twenty generations lie buried, in the Great Abbey ... the dust of...

_Jos._ To me-- Yes, but not to thyself: thy pace is hurried, And no one walks a chamber like to ours, With steps like thine, when his heart is at rest. Were it a garden, I shoul...

_Myr._ (_at a window_)[28] The day at last has broken. What a night Hath ushered it! How beautiful in heaven! Though varied with a transitory storm, More beautiful in that varie...

_Sar._ (_speaking to some of his attendants_). Let the pavilion[6] over the Euphrates Be garlanded, and lit, and furnished forth For an especial banquet; at the hour Of midnight...

[59] {153}[For inscriptions on the walls of the _Pozzi_, see note 1 to _Childe Harold's Pilgrimage_, Canto IV., _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 465-467. Hobhouse transferred these "...

_Beleses_ (_solus_). The Sun goes down: methinks he sets more slowly, Taking his last look of Assyria's Empire. How red he glares amongst those deepening clouds, Like the blood...

_Myr._ (_sola, gazing_). I have stolen upon his rest, if rest it be, Which thus convulses slumber: shall I wake him? No, he seems calmer. Oh, thou God of Quiet! Whose reign is o...

_Eve_. God! who didst name the day, and separate Morning from night, till then divided never-- Who didst divide the wave from wave, and call Part of thy work the firmament--All...

_Bert._ I would so, too! But as thou _hast_--hence, hence--and do thy best! That back of thine may bear its burthen; 'tis More high, if not so broad as that of others.

_Hen._ Yes, for _masters_, It might be unto those who long for novelty, Though made by a new grave: but, as for wassail, Methinks the old Count Siegendorf maintained His feudal...

_Doge_. True--true--true: I crave your pardon. I Begin to fail in apprehension, and Wax very old--old almost as my years. Till now I fought them off, but they begin 10 To overta...

_Meis._ I have, in all directions, over Prague, As far as the man's dress and figure could By your description track him. The devil take These revels and processions! All the pl...

_Alt._ Mighty though They were, as all thy royal line have been, Yet none of those who went before have reached The acmé of Sardanapalus, who 10 Has placed his joy in peace--the...

_Josepha_. You shall have it, 10 Such as this ruinous mansion may afford: Tis spacious, but too cold and crazy now For Hospitality's more cordial welcome: But as it is 'tis yours.

_Cain_. How silent and how vast are these dim worlds! For they seem more than one, and yet more peopled Than the huge brilliant luminous orbs which swung So thickly in the upper...

_Doge_. No doubt: I found her Queen of Ocean, and I leave her Lady of Lombardy; it is a comfort[bc] That I have added to her diadem The gems of Brescia and Ravenna; Crema[50] 20...

_Jos._ Yes! My dream is realised--how beautiful!-- How more than all I sighed for! Heaven receive A mother's thanks! a mother's tears of joy! This is indeed thy work!--At such a...

_Jac. Fos._ (_solus_). No light, save yon faint gleam which shows me walls Which never echoed but to Sorrow's sounds,[58] The sigh of long imprisonment, the step Of feet on whic...

_Bar._ Nay, let him profit by A few brief minutes for his tortured limbs; He was o'erwrought by the Question yesterday, And may die under it if now repeated.[at][37]

_Gab._ I care not If it be so, being much disposed to do 10 The same myself. But will you shelter me? I am oppressed like you--and poor like you-- Disgraced----

_Bar._ In his countenance, I grant you, never; But I have seen him sometimes in a calm So desolate, that the most clamorous grief Had nought to envy him within. Where is he? 10

_Iden._ Poor as a miser[171]. But lodged so far off, in the other wing, 20 By which there's no communication with The baron's chamber, that it can't be he. Besides, I bade him "...

reproductions of pp. 203-206, 228-232, and 252-271 of the novel (see _Canterbury Tales_, ed. 1832, vol. ii.). On the other hand, in the remaining three-fourths of the play, the...

_Cæs._ Then wipe them, and see clearly. Why! Thou art a conqueror; the chosen knight And free companion of the gallant Bourbon, Late constable of France[230]; and now to be Lord...

[14] {28}["Rode. Winter's wind somewhat more unkind than ingratitude itself, though Shakespeare says otherwise. At least, I am so much more accustomed to meet with ingratitude t...

The wars are over, The spring is come; The bride and her lover Have sought their home: They are happy, we rejoice; Let their hearts have an echo in every voice!

Francesco, son of Nicolò Foscari, was born in 1373. He was nominated a member of the Council of Ten in 1399, and, after holding various offices of state, elected Doge in 1423. H...

_Luth. Sold._ (_dying_). Oh! 20 Had I but slain him, I had gone on high, Crowned with eternal glory! Heaven, forgive My feebleness of arm that reached him not, And take thy serv...

[171] {367}["Your printer has made one odd mistake:--'poor as a _Mouse_' instead of 'poor as a _Miser_.' The expression may seem strange, but it is only a translation of 'Semper...

_Sieg._ And Must thus redeem it. Fly! I am not master, It seems, of my own castle--of my own Retainers--nay, even of these very walls, Or I would bid them fall and crush me! Fly...

_Lucifer_. Believe--and sink not! doubt--and perish! thus Would run the edict of the other God, Who names me Demon to his angels; they Echo the sound to miserable things, Which,...

_Wer._ I could not sleep--and now the hour's at hand! All's ready. Idenstein has kept his word; And stationed in the outskirts of the town, Upon the forest's edge, the vehicle A...

'Tis the morn, but dim and dark.[do] Whither flies the silent lark? Whither shrinks the clouded sun? Is the day indeed begun? Nature's eye is melancholy O'er the city high and h...

_Josepha_. THE storm is at it's height--how the wind howls, Like an unearthly voice, through these lone chambers! And the rain patters on the flapping casement Which quivers in...

_Anah_. But, Aholibamah, I love our God less since his angel loved me: This cannot be of good; and though I know not That I do wrong, I feel a thousand fears Which are not omino...

_Japh._ But they soothe me--now Perhaps she looks upon them as I look. Methinks a being that is beautiful Becometh more so as it looks on beauty, The eternal beauty of undying t...

_Cæs._ I cannot find my hero; he is mixed With the heroic crowd that now pursue The fugitives, or battle with the desperate. What have we here? A Cardinal or two That do not see...

"... sound him with the gem; 'Twill sink into his venal soul like lead Into the deep, and bring up slime and mud. And ooze, too, from the bottom, as the lead doth With its greas...

_Salemenes_ (_solus_). He hath wronged his queen, but still he is her lord; He hath wronged my sister--still he is my brother; He hath wronged his people--still he is their sove...

_Gab._ (_solus_). Four-- Five--six hours have I counted, like the guard Of outposts, on the never-merry clock, That hollow tongue[190] of time, which, even when It sounds for jo...

_Stral._ I am not sleepy, And yet I must to bed: I fain would say To rest, but something heavy on my spirit, Too dull for wakefulness, too quick for slumber, Sits on me as a clo...

Goethe was interested in _Heaven and Earth_. "He preferred it," says Crabb Robinson (_Diary_, 1869, ii. 434), "to all the other serious poems of Byron.... 'A bishop,' he exclaim...

behaviour," her "fits of phrenzy," her "caprices," "passions," and so forth; and there is convincing proof--see _Life_, pp. 28, 306; _Letters_, 1898, ii. 122 (incident at Bellin...