The Works of the Right Honourable Lord Byron: Prisoner of Chillon. Manfred. Lament of Tasso, &c
John Murray, 1818 - 141 pages
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ABBOT answer aspect bear beautiful beneath bird blood Bonnivard breath CHILLON clay clouds cold darkness death deep died dost doth dread dream dungeon dwell earth Edition Enter eyes face fatal fate fear feel further Geneve give grave grew Hall hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven hope hour human knew knowledge lake less light live look LORD MANFRED MANUEL mind mortal mountain nature never night Note o'er ocean once pain past pause Poem PRISONER reply rest rise rocks round SCENE SECOND seen shadow sight silent sleep smile soul speak SPIRIT star stood strange sufferance tears tell thee thine things thou art thoughts torture twas voice walls wandering wave wild wind WITCH youth
Page 21 - For he would never thus have flown, And left me twice so doubly lone, — Lone — as the corse within its shroud, Lone — as a solitary cloud, A single cloud on a sunny day, While all the rest of heaven is clear, A frown upon the atmosphere, That hath no business to appear When skies are blue, and earth is gay.
Page 2 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard ! — May none those marks efface ! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
Page 15 - He faded, and so calm and meek, So softly worn, so sweetly weak, So tearless, yet so tender, kind, And grieved for those he left behind ; With all the while a cheek whose bloom Was as a mockery of the tomb, Whose tints as gently sunk away As a departing rainbow's ray...
Page 6 - And in each pillar there is a ring, And in each ring there is a chain; That iron is a cankering thing, For in these limbs its teeth remain...
Page 85 - Though thy slumber may be deep Yet thy spirit shall not sleep; There are shades which will not vanish, There are thoughts thou canst not banish...
Page 15 - ... as gently sunk away As a departing rainbow's ray — An eye of most transparent light, That almost made the dungeon bright, And not a word of murmur — not A groan o'er his untimely lot, — A little talk of better days, A little hope my own...
Page 27 - With spiders I had friendship made, And watched them in their sullen trade; Had seen the mice by moonlight play — And why should I feel less than they? We were all inmates of one place, And I, the monarch of each race, Had power to kill; yet, strange to tell! In quiet we had learned to dwell. My very chains and I grew friends, So much a long communion tends To make us what we are: — even I Regained my freedom with a sigh.
Page 52 - That in the antique oratory shook His bosom in its solitude; and then — As in that hour — a moment o'er his face The tablet of unutterable thoughts Was traced — and then it faded as it came...
Page 30 - Though the day of my destiny's over, And the star of my fate hath declined, Thy soft heart refused to discover The faults which so many could find ; Though thy soul with my grief was acquainted, It shrunk not to share it with me, And the love which my spirit hath painted It never hath found but in thee.
Page 50 - Boy was sprung to manhood: in the wilds Of fiery climes he made himself a home, And his Soul drank their sunbeams: he was girt With strange and dusky aspects; he was not Himself like what he had been; on the sea And on the shore he was a wanderer; There was a mass of many images Crowded like waves upon me...