George Gordon Noel Byron ( 10 of 329 )
It is the hour when from the boughs
The nightingale's high note is heard;
It is the read more
It is the hour when from the boughs
The nightingale's high note is heard;
It is the hour when lovers' vows
Seem sweet in every whispered word;
And gentle winds, and waters near,
Make music to the lonely ear.
Each flower the dews have lightly wet,
And in the sky the stars are met,
And on the wave is deeper blue,
And on the leaf a browner hue,
And in the heaven that clear obscure,
So softly dark, and darkly pure.
Which follows the decline of day,
As twilight melts beneath the moon away.
"Not to admire, is all the art I know
(Plain truth, dear Murray, needs few flowers of speech)
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"Not to admire, is all the art I know
(Plain truth, dear Murray, needs few flowers of speech)
To make men happy, or to keep them so."
(So take it in the very words of Creech)
Thus Horace wrote we all know long ago;
And thus Pope quotes the precept to re-teach
From his translation; but had none admired,
Would Pope have sung, or Horace been inspired?
These two hated with a hate
Found only on the stage.
These two hated with a hate
Found only on the stage.
The languages, especially the dead,
The sciences, and most of all the abstruse,
The arts, at least read more
The languages, especially the dead,
The sciences, and most of all the abstruse,
The arts, at least all such as could be said
To be the most remote from common use,
In all these he was much and deeply read.
. . . Years steal
Fire from the mind, as vigor from the limb;
And life's enchanted read more
. . . Years steal
Fire from the mind, as vigor from the limb;
And life's enchanted cut but sparkles near the brim.
Ah! were I sever'd from thy side,
Where were thy friend and who my guide?
Years have read more
Ah! were I sever'd from thy side,
Where were thy friend and who my guide?
Years have not seen, Time shall not see
The hour that tears my soul from thee.
Imperial Waltz! imported from the Rhine
(Famed for the growth of pedigrees and wine),
Long be thine read more
Imperial Waltz! imported from the Rhine
(Famed for the growth of pedigrees and wine),
Long be thine import from all duty free,
And hock itself be less esteem'd than thee.
Most glorious night!
Thou wert not sent for slumber!
Most glorious night!
Thou wert not sent for slumber!
No Sane man will dance.
No Sane man will dance.
Tyranny
Is far the worst of treasons. Dost thou deem
None rebels except subjects? The prince who
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Tyranny
Is far the worst of treasons. Dost thou deem
None rebels except subjects? The prince who
Neglects or violates his trust is more
A brigand than the robber-chief.
