Byron en het Byronisme in de Nederlandsche letterkunde

Front Cover
H. J. Paris, 1928 - 416 pages
 

Common terms and phrases

Popular passages

Page 40 - FARE thee well ! and if for ever, Still for ever, fare thee well : Even though unforgiving, never 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. Would that breast were bared before thee Where thy head so oft hath lain, While that placid sleep came o'er thee Which thou ne'er canst know again : Would that breast, by thee glanced over, Every inmost thought could show ! Then thou wouldst at last discover ?Twas not well to spurn it so. Though the world for this commend thee — Though it smile upon the blow, Even...
Page 336 - Dark-heaving, boundless, endless and sublime — The image of eternity — the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
Page 159 - Lone — as a solitary cloud, A single cloud on a sunny day, While all the rest of heaven is clear, A frown upon the atmosphere , That hath no business to appear When skies are blue, and earth is gay.
Page 76 - My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone! The fire that on my bosom preys, Is lone as some volcanic isle; No torch is kindled at its blaze — A funeral pile!
Page 48 - So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving, And the moon be still as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And love itself have rest. Though the night was made for loving, And the day returns too soon, Yet we'll go no more a roving By the light of the moon.
Page 18 - 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!
Page 317 - Among the stones I stood a stone; And was, scarce conscious what I wist, As shrubless crags within the mist; For all was blank, and bleak, and gray; It was not night — it was not day; It was not even the dungeon-light, So hateful to my heavy sight; But vacancy absorbing space, And fixedness, — without a place...
Page 51 - The isles of Greece ! the isles of Greece ! "Where burning Sappho loved and sung, — Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung ! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set.
Page 159 - None lived to love me so again. And cheering from my dungeon's brink, Had brought me back to feel and think. I know not if it late were free, Or broke its cage to perch on mine, 280 But knowing well captivity. Sweet bird, I could not wish for thine...
Page 31 - SHE walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes : Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

Bibliographic information