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afterwards answer appeared asked beautiful believe Cain called Canto cause character Childe continued death Don Juan England English epigram expected feelings forced gave give Government Greece Greek hand heard heart hope hussar idea interest Italian Italy kind knew Lady land least leave letter lines live look Lord Byron lost manner master mean Messolonghi mind Moore Murray nature never observed once opinion original party passed perhaps person play poem poet poetry present prove published received remember replied rest seems sent Shelley shew soon speak spirit Stanza story suppose sure taken talk tell thee thing thought told took translation turned wanted whole wish woman write written wrote young
Page 105 - He, who grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life, So that no wonder waits him ; nor below Can love, or sorrow, fame, ambition, strife...
Page 113 - We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow!
Page 208 - Ward has no heart, they say ; but I deny it;— He has a heart, and gets his speeches by it.
Page 113 - ... misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
Page 173 - There is not wind enough to twirl The one red leaf, the last of its clan, That dances as often as dance it can, Hanging so light, and hanging so high, On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.
Page 113 - But half of our heavy task was done, When the clock struck the hour for retiring ; And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Page 256 - Midst others of less note, came one frail Form, A phantom among men; companionless As the last cloud of an expiring storm Whose thunder is its knell; he, as I guess, Had gazed on Nature's naked loveliness, Actaeon-like, and now he fled astray With feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness, And his own thoughts, along that rugged way, Pursued, like raging hounds, their father and their prey.
Page 300 - Tread those reviving passions down, Unworthy manhood! — unto thee Indifferent should the smile or frown Of beauty be. If thou regret'st thy youth, why live? The land of honourable death Is here: — up to the field, and give Away thy breath! Seek out — less often sought than found — A soldier's grave, for thee the best; Then look around and choose thy ground, And take thy rest.