The Works of Lord Byron, Volume 10

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Page 89 - But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think...
Page 270 - And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
Page 332 - After laying down my pen, I took several turns in a berceau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains. The air was temperate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waters, and all nature was silent.
Page 358 - Glacier• like a frozen hurricane. Starlight, beautiful, but a devil of a path! Never mind, got safe in ; a little lightning ; but the whole of the day as fine in point of weather as the day on which Paradise was made. Passed whole woods of withered pines, all withered; trunks stripped and barkless, branches lifeless ; done by a single winter, — their appearance reminded me of me and my family.
Page 40 - Slave, I have set my life upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die: I think, there be six Richmonds in the field ; Five have I slain to-day, instead of him: — A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse ! [Exeunt.
Page 356 - It is not noon: the sunbow's rays still arch The torrent with the many hues of heaven, And roll the sheeted silver's waving column O'er the crag's headlong perpendicular, And fling its lines of foaming light along, And to and fro, — like the pale courser's tail, loo The giant steed, to be bestrode by Death, As told in the Apocalypse.
Page 80 - I SPEAK not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name, There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame : But the tear which now burns on my cheek may impart The deep thoughts that dwell in that silence of heart.
Page 241 - Wilberforce!' Is not that Sherry all over ? — and, to my mind, excellent. Poor fellow, his very dregs are better than the * first sprightly runnings
Page 237 - As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night, O'er Heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light, When not a breath disturbs the deep serene, And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene ; Around her throne the vivid planets roll, And stars unnumber'd gild the glowing pole, O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, And tip with silver every mountain's head...
Page 64 - And rise to faults true critics dare not mend. From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part. And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art, Which, without passing through the judgment, gains The heart, and all its end at once attains.

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