La Jeunesse de Lord Byron

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Strana 150 - To live within himself; she was his life, The ocean to the river of his thoughts, Which terminated all : upon a tone, A touch of hers, his blood would ebb and flow, And his cheek change tempestuously — his heart 60 Unknowing of its cause of agony.
Strana 154 - While many of his tribe slumber'd around ; And they were canopied by the blue sky — So cloudless, clear, and purely beautiful, That God alone was to be seen in heaven.
Strana 273 - A few short hours, and he will rise To give the morrow birth ; And I shall hail the main and skies, But not my mother earth. Deserted is my own good hall, Its hearth is desolate ; Wild weeds are gathering on the wall, My dog howls at the gate.
Strana 150 - Another ! even now she loved another ; And on the summit of that hill she stood Looking afar , if yet her lover's steed Kept pace with her expectancy , and flew.
Strana 272 - Adieu, adieu ! my native shore Fades o'er the waters blue ; The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, And shrieks the wild sea-mew. Yon sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight ; Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native Land — Good night...
Strana 121 - Trop avare d'un sang reçu d'une déesse, Attendre chez mon père une obscure vieillesse ; Et, toujours de la gloire évitant le sentier, Ne laisser aucun nom, et mourir tout entier?
Strana 154 - And on the shore he was a wanderer ; There was a mass of many images Crowded like waves upon me, but he was A part of all ; and in the last he lay Reposing from the noontide sultriness...
Strana 150 - And both were young — yet not alike in youth. As the sweet moon on the horizon's verge The maid was on the eve of womanhood ; The boy had fewer summers, but his heart Had far outgrown his years, and to his eye There was but one beloved face on earth, And that was shining on him ; he had look'd Upon it till it could not pass away ; He had no breath, no being, but in hers ; She was his voice ; he did not speak to her...
Strana 268 - ... je trouve la mort si terrible , que je hais plus la vie parce qu'elle m'y mène , que par les épines dont elle est semée.
Strana 154 - The 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...

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