Letters and Journals of Lord Byron: With Notices of His Life

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Pāgina 164 - A cherub's face, a reptile all the rest. Beauty that shocks you, parts that none will trust, Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust.
Pāgina 58 - To things ye knew not of, — were closely wed To musty laws lined out with wretched rule And compass vile; so that ye taught a school Of dolts to smooth, inlay, and clip, and fit, Till, like the certain wands of Jacob's wit, Their verses tallied. Easy was the task: A thousand handicraftsmen wore the mask Of Poesy.
Pāgina 495 - 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...
Pāgina 626 - Signed, sealed, published and declared by the said Testator as and for his last Will and Testament, in the presence of us, who in his presence, at his request, and in the presence of each other, have subscribed our names as witnesses...
Pāgina 565 - The Pilgrim of Eternity, whose fame Over his living head like Heaven is bent, An early but enduring monument...
Pāgina 98 - tis a grand poem — and so true! — true as the 10th of Juvenal himself. The lapse of ages changes all things — time — language — the earth — the bounds of the sea — the stars of the sky, and every thing * about, around, and underneath' man, except man himself, who has always been, and always will be, an unlucky rascal.
Pāgina 302 - Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story ; The days of our youth are the days of our glory ; And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.
Pāgina 623 - I direct that they, my said trustees and the survivor of them, and the executors and administrators of such survivor...
Pāgina 285 - Not happy, in thy death thou surely wert, Thy wish accomplished ; dying in the land Where thy young mind had caught ethereal fire, Dying in Greece, and in a cause so glorious ! They in thy train — ah, little did they think, As round we went, that they so soon should sit Mourning beside thee, while a Nation...
Pāgina 137 - Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn." ["There scattered oft, the earliest of the year, By hands unseen, are showers of violets found ; The redbreast loves to build and warble there, And little footsteps lightly print the ground.

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