Wanderings of Childe Harold; a romance of real life, Volume 2

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Page 132 - Spans with bright arch the glittering hills below. Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye, "Whose sunbright summit mingles with the sky ? Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear More sweet than all the landscape smiling near ?— 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue.
Page 189 - rp 1 is said she once was beautiful; — and still — (For 'tis not years that can have wrought her ill,) — Deep rays of loveliness around her form Beam, as the rainbow that succeeds the storm, Brightens a glorious ruin.
Page 60 - LORD, thy Grandsire had a friend, In days of youthful fame ; Yon distant hills were his domains, Sir Bertram was his name. Where'er the noble Percy fought His friend was at his side ; And many a skirmish with the Scots Their early valour tried.
Page 55 - DESIGNED for peace, and soft delight, For tender love, and pity mild, O seek not thou the craggy height, The howling main, the desert wild ! Stay in the shelter'd valley low, Where calmly blows the fragrant ah-, But shun the mountain's stormy brow, For darken'd winds are raging there.
Page 92 - ... pliant slave In gallant trim, and gay; His course was Pleasure's placid wave, His life a summer's day. And I was caught in Folly's snare, And join'd her giddy train — But found her soon the nurse of Care, And Punishment, and Pain. There surely is some guiding Power Which rightly suffers wrong — Gives Vice to bloom its little hour — But Virtue, late and long.
Page 11 - Know not a trace of Nature but the form ; Yet, at thy call, the hardy tar pursued, Pale, but intrepid, sad, but unsubdued, Pierced the deep woods, and, hailing from afar The...
Page 88 - tis Fancy fires the soul. Far beyond the bounds of meaning Fancy flies, a fairy queen ! Fancy, wit and worth disdaining, Gives the prize to Harlequin.
Page 59 - Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet, ah! why should they know their fate, Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies ? Thought would destroy their paradise! No more; — where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.
Page 57 - The midnight wizards, breathing rites abhorr'd ; Trembling, approach'd their incantations fell, And, chill'd with horror, heard the songs of hell.

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