Lord Byron and Some of His Contemporaries: With Recollections of the Author's Life, and of His Visit to Italy, Volume 1H. Colburn, 1828 - 494 pages |
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Page v
... told that I should put an end to a great deal of false biography , and do myself a great service besides . My refusal of this suggestion will at least show , that I was in no hurry to do the work for my own sake ; and to say the truth ...
... told that I should put an end to a great deal of false biography , and do myself a great service besides . My refusal of this suggestion will at least show , that I was in no hurry to do the work for my own sake ; and to say the truth ...
Page vi
... told of the Noble Poet , involved of necessity a painful retrospect ; and humanize as I may , and as I trust I do , upon him as well as every thing else , and certain as I am , that although I look upon this or that man as more or less ...
... told of the Noble Poet , involved of necessity a painful retrospect ; and humanize as I may , and as I trust I do , upon him as well as every thing else , and certain as I am , that although I look upon this or that man as more or less ...
Page vii
... told all : for I have no right to do so . In the present case it would also be inhumanity , both to the dead and the living . But what I have told is not to be gainsaid PREFACE . vii.
... told all : for I have no right to do so . In the present case it would also be inhumanity , both to the dead and the living . But what I have told is not to be gainsaid PREFACE . vii.
Page viii
... told is not to be gainsaid . Perhaps had I felt Lord Byron's conduct less than I did , I should have experienced less of it . Flattery might have done much with him ; and I felt enough admiration of his talents , and sympathy with his ...
... told is not to be gainsaid . Perhaps had I felt Lord Byron's conduct less than I did , I should have experienced less of it . Flattery might have done much with him ; and I felt enough admiration of his talents , and sympathy with his ...
Page ix
... told the world of it or not . Besides , Lord Byron was not candid with me . He suffered himself to take mea- sures , and be open to representations , in which I was concerned , without letting me know : and I know of no safety of ...
... told the world of it or not . Besides , Lord Byron was not candid with me . He suffered himself to take mea- sures , and be open to representations , in which I was concerned , without letting me know : and I know of no safety of ...
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Common terms and phrases
acquaintance admired afterwards Albaro appeared Bard Baubo Bay of Spezia beauty believe body called Captain compliment confess connexion contradiction critics DEAR HUNT delight Don Juan doubt England English eyes fancy Faust feel genius Genoa gentleman give Goethe good-humoured handsome Hazlitt heart honour hope Italian Italy Keats kind knew lady Lady Byron laugh least Leghorn Leigh Hunt Lerici less letters Liberal lived look Lord Byron Lord Holland Lordship Madame Guiccioli manner matter mean Medwin Meph mistake Moore moral nature never noble occasion opinion Parisina passage passion perhaps person Pisa pleasure poem poet poetical poetry pretended reader reason respect Rimini seemed sense Shelley Shelley's sincerity sort speak spirit spleen talk tell thing thou thought tion told took truth Via Reggio wish word write written young
Popular passages
Page 429 - While he from forth the closet brought a heap Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd ; With jellies soother than the creamy curd, And lucent syrups, tinct with cinnamon ; Manna and dates, in argosy transferr'd From Fez ; and spiced dainties, every one, From silken Samarcand to cedar'd Lebanon.
Page 434 - Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare...
Page 437 - Darkling I listen; and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth -thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! • Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod.
Page 435 - Ode to a Nightingale MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thy happiness, — That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
Page 436 - O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim...
Page 436 - Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays...
Page 437 - As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf. Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: — Do I wake or sleep?
Page 411 - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: — Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific — and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise — Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
Page 340 - The cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place.
Page 437 - Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket...