Parisina (Lord George Gordon Byron Poems)
It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard;It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet ...
It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard;It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet ...
And thou art dead, as young and fair As aught of mortal birth;And form so soft, and charms so rare, Too soon ...
Fill the goblet again! for I never beforeFelt the glow which now gladdens my heart to its core;Let us drink!--who ...
There is a tear for all that die, A mourner o'er the humblest grave;But nations swell the funeral cry, And Triumph weeps ...
The King was on his throne,The Satraps throng'd the hall:A thousand bright lamps shoneO'er that high festival.A thousand cups of ...
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