Lord Byron's Works ...F. Louis, 1821 |
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Sida 11
... lost in circumambient foam : And then , it may be , of his wish to roam Repented he , but in his bosom slept The silent thought , nor from his lips did come One word of wail , whilst others sate and wept , And to the reckless gales ...
... lost in circumambient foam : And then , it may be , of his wish to roam Repented he , but in his bosom slept The silent thought , nor from his lips did come One word of wail , whilst others sate and wept , And to the reckless gales ...
Sida 18
... lost : For chiefs like ours in vain may laurels bloom ! Woe to the conquering , not the conquered host , Since baffled Triumph droops on Lusitania's coast ! XXVI . And ever since that martial synod met , Britannia sickens , Cintra ! at ...
... lost : For chiefs like ours in vain may laurels bloom ! Woe to the conquering , not the conquered host , Since baffled Triumph droops on Lusitania's coast ! XXVI . And ever since that martial synod met , Britannia sickens , Cintra ! at ...
Sida 26
... lost . L. And whomsoe'er along the path you meet , Bears in his cap the badge of crimson hue , Which tells you whom to shun and whom to greet : Woe to the man that walks in public view Without of loyalty this token true : Sharp is the ...
... lost . L. And whomsoe'er along the path you meet , Bears in his cap the badge of crimson hue , Which tells you whom to shun and whom to greet : Woe to the man that walks in public view Without of loyalty this token true : Sharp is the ...
Sida 28
... fall ? What maid retrieve when man's flushed hope is lost ? Who hang so fiercely on the flying Gaul , Foiled by a woman's hand , before a battered wall ? LVII . Yet are Spain's maids no race of Amazons 28 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE .
... fall ? What maid retrieve when man's flushed hope is lost ? Who hang so fiercely on the flying Gaul , Foiled by a woman's hand , before a battered wall ? LVII . Yet are Spain's maids no race of Amazons 28 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE .
Sida 38
... lost , That bids me loathe my present state And fly from all I prized the most : 4 . " It is that weariness which springs From all I meet , or hear , or see : To me no pleasure beauty brings ; Thine eyes have scarce a charm for me . 5 ...
... lost , That bids me loathe my present state And fly from all I prized the most : 4 . " It is that weariness which springs From all I meet , or hear , or see : To me no pleasure beauty brings ; Thine eyes have scarce a charm for me . 5 ...
Vanliga ord och fraser
ABBOT OF SAINT Albania Alhama art thou ASTARTE beauty behold beneath blood Bonnivard bosom breast breath brow Cavalier Servente CHAMOIS HUNTER charm Childe Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE clouds cold courser dare dark dead death deemed deep dost doth dread dream dust dwell earth eyes fair fame fear feel gaze Giaour glory glow grave Greece hand hast hath heart heaven hope hour hues Idlesse immortal land light limbs live lone look MANFRED Mazeppa mighty mind mingling mortal mountains ne'er never night nought o'er once pang pass Pindus rock round SAINT MAURICE scarce scene shine shore SIEGE OF CORINTH sigh silent skies smile song soul spirit star steed stood sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought thousand throne tomb twas Venice voice walls wandering waves wild wind youth
Populära avsnitt
Sida 179 - 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...
Sida 225 - Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed...
Sida 218 - Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain.
Sida 120 - I STOOD in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, A palace and a prison on each hand ; I saw from out the wave her structures rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand : A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles, Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles...
Sida 167 - Were with his heart, and that was far away; He reck'd not of the life he lost nor prize, But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother— he, their sire, Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday— All this rush'd with his blood— Shall he expire And unavenged? Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire!
Sida 181 - Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 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...
Sida 88 - Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms, — the day Battle's magnificently stern array!
Sida 105 - When elements to elements conform. And dust is as it should be, shall I not Feel all I see, less dazzling, but more warm ? The bodiless thought?
Sida 128 - Thou art the garden of the world, the home Of all Art yields, and Nature can decree ; Even in thy desert, what is like to thee ? Thy very weeds are beautiful, thy waste More rich than other climes' fertility ; Thy wreck a glory, and thy ruin graced With an immaculate charm which cannot be defaced.
Sida 99 - twere anew, the gaps of centuries ; Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not, till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old, — The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns.