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¹Ùº§·Ð °°¡¿¡ ¾É¾Æ ¿ì¸®´Â ¿ï¾úµµ´Ù By the Rivers of Babylon ¿ì¸® µÑ Çì¾îÁú ¶§ When We Two Parted ±æ ¾ø´Â ½£¿¡ ±â»ÝÀÌ ÀÖ´Ù There Is A Pleasure in The Pathless Woods ¾ÆÅ×³× ¾Æ°¡¾¾¿©, ¿ì¸® Çì¾îÁö±â Àü¿¡ Maid of Athens, ere we part ±×³à´Â ¾Æ¸§´ä°Ô °È´Â´Ù Beauty ÀÌÁ¦´Â ´õ ÀÌ»ó Çì¸ÅÁö ¸»ÀÚ A-Roving
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By the Rivers of Babylon We Sat Down and Wept
- George, Gordon, Lord Byron
We sat down and wept by the waters
Of Babel, and thought of the day
When our foe, in the hue of his slaughters,
Made Salem's high places his prey;
And ye, oh her desolate daughters!
Were scattered all weeping away.
While sadly we gazed on the river
Which rolled on in freedom below,
They demanded the song; but, oh never
That triumph the stranger shall know!
May this right hand be withered for ever,
Ere it string our high harp for the foe!
On the willow that harp is suspended,
Oh Salem! its sound should be free;
And the hour when thy glories were
ended
But left me that token of thee:
And ne'er shall its soft tones be blended
With the voice of the spoiler by me!
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When We Two Parted
- George Gordon, Lord Byron
When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.
The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow--
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame;
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.
They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me--
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:--
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.
In secret we met--
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?--
With silence and tears.
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There Is A Pleasure in The Pathless Woods
from Childe Harold, Canto iv, Verse 178
- George Gordon Lord Byron
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.
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Maid of Athens, ere we part
- George Gordon, Lord Byron
Maid of Athens, ere we part,
Give, oh, give back my heart!
Or, since that has left my breast,
Keep it now, and take the rest!
Hear my vow before I go,
Zoe mou sas agapo.
By those tresses unconfined,
Wooed by each Aegean wind;
By those lids whose jetty fringe
Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge;
By those wild eyes like the roe,
Zoe mou sas agapo.
By that lip I long to taste;
By that zone-encircled waist;
By all the token-flowers that tell
What words can never speak so well;
By love's alternate joy and woe,
Zoe mou sas agapo.
Maid of Athens! I am gone:
Think of me, sweet! when alone.
Though I fly to Istambol,
Athens holds my heart and soul:
Can I cease to love thee? No!
Zoe mou sas agapo.
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Beauty
- George Gordon,Lord Byron
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.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress;
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.
ÀÌÁ¦´Â ´õ ÀÌ»ó Çì¸ÅÁö ¸»ÀÚ
- ¹ÙÀÌ·±
ÀÌÁ¦´Â ´õ ÀÌ»ó Çì¸ÅÁö ¸»ÀÚ,
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A-Roving
- George Gordon, Lord Byron
So, we'll go no more a-roving
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.
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