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" Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear... "
Lord Byron and Some of His Contemporaries: With Recollections of the Author ... - Strana 364
autor/autoři: Leigh Hunt - 1828 - 494 str.
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Cyclopædia of English Literature: A History, Critical and ..., Svazek 2

Robert Chambers - 1844 - 738 str.
...despair itself is mild, Even an the winds and waters are ; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep s, To think on her thou leav'st behind. Thy love,...; But thou mayst grant this humble prayer, Forget sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. 1 A line мен» to have been lost at this place,...
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Cyclopædia of English literature, Svazek 2

Robert Chambers - 1844 - 746 str.
...despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are ; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep s sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. 1 A lino seems to have been lost at this place,...
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The Poets and Poetry of England, in the Nineteenth Century

Rufus Wilmot Griswold - 1845 - 558 str.
...despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child, A nd weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must...feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I, when this...
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The Poets and Poetry of England: In the Nineteenth Century

Rufus Wilmot Griswold - 1846 - 540 str.
...despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are ; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must...might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My check grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament...
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The works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, ed. by mrs. Shelley

Percy Bysshe Shelley - 1847 - 578 str.
...despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are ; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet...feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I when this...
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The Life of Percy Bysshe Shelley, Svazek 1

Thomas Medwin - 1847 - 408 str.
...is mild, Even as the winds and waters are. I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away this life of care, Which I have borne, and yet must bear,...steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air, My heart grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my outworn brain its last monotony." The line stands...
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The Poetical Writings of the Late Willis Gaylord Clark

Willis Gaylord Clark - 1847 - 170 str.
...a tried child, And weep away this life of care, Which I have borne and still must bear, Till denth, like sleep, might steal on me, And I might feel, in the warm air, My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Brenthe o'er my dying brain its last monotony." Shelley. 'T is a spring hour : the silvery green...
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The poetical works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, Svazky 1–4

Percy Bysshe Shelley - 1849 - 406 str.
...is mild, "* » Even as the winds and waters are ; " ** I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet...feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea [Breathe o'er my dying brain its lost monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I when this...
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Notes and Queries

1874 - 714 str.
...till it falls* asleep, and then the Care is over." " I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet...must bear, Till death like sleep might steal on me." JWW BEALE : BAILLIE : BALIOL : BAILLEUL. — One fact may establish a theory. The fact is, that in...
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American Monthly Knickerbocker, Svazek 34

Charles Fenno Hoffman, Timothy Flint, Lewis Gaylord Clark, Kinahan Cornwallis, John Holmes Agnew - 1849 - 652 str.
...care, Which I nave borne and still must bear, Till death like Bleep should steal on mo ; And I could feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the Eea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony,' our respected contemporary bowed down his face...
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