On A Distant View Of Harrow (Lord Byron Poem)
Ye scenes of my childhood, whose lov'd recollection Embitters the present, compar'd with the past; Where science first dawn'd on ...
Ye scenes of my childhood, whose lov'd recollection Embitters the present, compar'd with the past; Where science first dawn'd on ...
'Tis done---and shivering in the gale The bark unfurls her snowy sail; And whistling o'er the bending mast, Loud sings ...
There is a mystic thread of life So dearly wreath'd with mine alone, That Destiny's relentless knife At once must ...
Remember him, whom Passion's power Severely---deeply---vainly proved: Remember thou that dangerous hour, When neither fell, though both were loved. That ...
In law an infant, and in years a boy, In mind a slave to every vicious joy; From every sense ...
ADVERTISEMENT "The grand army of the Turks, (in 1715), under the Prime Vizier, to open to themselves a way into ...
'Twas after dread Pultowa's day, When fortune left the royal Swede - Around a slaughtered army lay, No more to ...
I would I were a careless child, Still dwelling in my highland cave, Or roaming through the dusky wild, Or ...
A Fragment of a Turkish Tale The tale which these disjointed fragments present, is founded upon circumstances now less common ...
Time! on whose arbitrary wing The varying hours must flag or fly, Whose tardy winter, fleeting spring, But drag or ...
Parent of golden dreams, Romance! Auspicious Queen of childish joys, Who lead'st along, in airy dance, Thy votive train of ...
I My hair is gray, but not with years, Nor grew it white In a single night, As men's have ...
O! had my Fate been join'd with thine, As once this pledge appear'd a token, These follies had not, then, ...
My soul is dark - Oh! quickly string The harp I yet can brook to hear; And let thy gentle ...
LARA. CANTO THE FIRST. I. The Serfs are glad through Lara's wide domain, And slavery half forgets her ...
When Time, or soon or late, shall bring The dreamless sleep that lulls the dead, Oblivion! may thy languid wing ...
There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away When the glow of early thought declines ...
I Our life is twofold; Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence: Sleep ...
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