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"Sydney's" Letter to the King: And Other Correspondence, Connected With the ...
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Abbey accuse admiration admit amid appeal appears ashes aspirations Author awful beauty believes benevolence Bible born bosom breath Cain cause character charity CHILDE Christian consider COURIER Creator dare dead death Deity doubt dust earth EDITOR errors fact faith feeling freedom future genius give given GLINDON grave Greece ground hand head heart Heaven honor hope humanity inserted interests KING knowledge laurelled lead leave letter liberal liberty LIBRARY Lifts light lines living lofty look Lord Byron Lordship’s Majesty mind monument moral Morning mysteries nature noble OVERDUE FEE pardonable passions Peace perfect pity Poet possible Post prayer present protect religion rest reverence Rupert Street sacred seek September simple sleep soul speak spirit sublime Sydney temple tenderness thee things thou thoughts tion tomb universal unto voice Westminster wisdom Writer written
Pàgina 17 - Tis time this heart should be unmoved, Since others it hath ceased to move : Yet, though I cannot be beloved, Still let me love! 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...
Pàgina 42 - Half dust, half deity, alike unfit To sink or soar, with our mix'd essence make A conflict of its elements, and breathe The breath of degradation and of pride, Contending with low wants and lofty will Till our mortality predominates, And men are — what they name not to themselves, And trust not to each other.
Pàgina 49 - But strew his ashes to the wind Whose sword or voice has served mankind — And is he dead, whose glorious mind ' Lifts thine on high ? — To live in hearts we leave behind Is not to die.
Pàgina 18 - The fire that on my bosom preys Is lone as some volcanic isle ; No torch is kindled at its blaze — A funeral pile. The hope, the fear, the jealous care, The exalted portion of the pain And power of love, I cannot share, But wear the chain. But 'tis not thus — and 'tis not here — Such thoughts should shake my soul, nor now, Where glory decks the hero's bier, Or binds his brow.
Pàgina iv - ... in Heaven's sight The sword he draws : What can alone ennoble fight ? A noble cause ! Give that ! and welcome War to brace Her drums ! and rend Heaven's reeking space-! The colours planted face to face, The charging cheer, Though Death's pale horse lead on, the chase Shall still be dear.
Pàgina 19 - Greece, around me see ! The Spartan borne upon his shield Was not more free. Awake ! (not Greece — she is awake !) Awake, my spirit ! Think through whom Thy life-blood tracks its parent lake, And then strike home ! Tread those reviving passions down, Unworthy manhood ! unto thee Indifferent should the smile or frown Of beauty be. If thou...
Pàgina 41 - As clay hath seldom borne; his aspirations Have been beyond the dwellers of the earth, And they have only taught him what we know — That knowledge is not happiness, and science But an exchange of ignorance for that Which is another kind of ignorance.
Pàgina 42 - My mother Earth! And thou fresh breaking Day, and you, ye Mountains, Why are ye beautiful? I cannot love ye. And thou, the bright eye of the universe, That openest over all, and unto all Art a delight— thou shin'st not on my heart.