Lord George Gordon Byron

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage

156 printed pages
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  • b1316201520has quoted3 months ago
    Thou seest not all; but piecemeal thou must break

    To separate contemplation, the great whole;

    And as the ocean many bays will make,

    That ask the eye—so here condense thy soul

    To more immediate objects, and control

    Thy thoughts until thy mind hath got by heart

    Its eloquent proportions, and unroll

    In mighty graduations, part by part,

    The glory which at once upon thee did not dart.
  • b1316201520has quoted3 months ago
    But I have lived, and have not lived in vain:

    My mind may lose its force, my blood its fire,

    And my frame perish even in conquering pain,

    But there is that within me which shall tire

    Torture and Time, and breathe when I expire:

    Something unearthly, which they deem not of,

    Like the remembered tone of a mute lyre,

    Shall on their softened spirits sink, and move

    In hearts all rocky now the late remorse of love
  • b1316201520has quoted3 months ago
    Few—none—find what they love or could have loved:

    Though accident, blind contact, and the strong

    Necessity of loving, have removed

    Antipathies—but to recur, ere long,

    Envenomed with irrevocable wrong;

    And Circumstance, that unspiritual god

    And miscreator, makes and helps along

    Our coming evils with a crutch-like rod,

    Whose touch turns hope to dust—the dust we all have trod.

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