With Byron in Italy: A Selection of the Poems and Letters of Lord Byron Relating to His Life in ItalyT. F. Unwin, 1907 - 327 sidor |
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Sida 25
... didst annihilate the earth to me ! VII I loved all Solitude ; but little thought To spend I know not what of life , remote From all communion with existence , save The maniac and his tyrant . Had I been Their fellow , many years ere ...
... didst annihilate the earth to me ! VII I loved all Solitude ; but little thought To spend I know not what of life , remote From all communion with existence , save The maniac and his tyrant . Had I been Their fellow , many years ere ...
Sida 40
... didst shine , thou rolling moon , upon All this , and cast a wide and tender light , Which soften'd down the hoar austerity Of rugged desolation , and fill'd up , As ' t were anew , the gaps of centuries ; Leaving that beautiful which ...
... didst shine , thou rolling moon , upon All this , and cast a wide and tender light , Which soften'd down the hoar austerity Of rugged desolation , and fill'd up , As ' t were anew , the gaps of centuries ; Leaving that beautiful which ...
Sida 46
... didst not tempt me , and thou couldst not tempt me ; I have not been thy dupe nor am thy prey , But was my own destroyer , and will be My own hereafter . - Back , ye baffled fiends ! The hand of death is on me Alas ! how pale thou art ...
... didst not tempt me , and thou couldst not tempt me ; I have not been thy dupe nor am thy prey , But was my own destroyer , and will be My own hereafter . - Back , ye baffled fiends ! The hand of death is on me Alas ! how pale thou art ...
Sida 76
... on Fortune's wheel , Triumphant Sylla ! thou , who didst subdue Thy country's foes ere thou wouldst pause to feel The wrath of thy own wrongs , or reap the due " And thou , the thunder - stricken nurse of [ 82 ] WITH BYRON IN ITALY.
... on Fortune's wheel , Triumphant Sylla ! thou , who didst subdue Thy country's foes ere thou wouldst pause to feel The wrath of thy own wrongs , or reap the due " And thou , the thunder - stricken nurse of [ 82 ] WITH BYRON IN ITALY.
Sida 79
... didst lay down With an atoning smile a more than earthly crown , LXXXIV The dictatorial wreath , couldst thou divine To what would one day dwindle that which made Thee more than mortal ? and that so supine By aught than Romans Rome ...
... didst lay down With an atoning smile a more than earthly crown , LXXXIV The dictatorial wreath , couldst thou divine To what would one day dwindle that which made Thee more than mortal ? and that so supine By aught than Romans Rome ...
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With Byron in Italy: Being a Selection of the Poems and Letter of Lord Byron ... George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1906 |
With Byron in Italy: A Selection of the Poems and Letters of Lord Byron ... Anna Benneson McMahan,Baron George Gordon Byron Byron Ingen förhandsgranskning - 2016 |
With Byron in Italy Anna Benneson Mcmahan,George Gordon Byron,A C McClurg and Co Ingen förhandsgranskning - 2023 |
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Populära avsnitt
Sida 71 - Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, ye! Whose agonies are evils of a day — A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. LXXIX. The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe; An empty urn within...
Sida 104 - 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, alone.
Sida 79 - There is a stern round tower of other days, Firm as a fortress, with its fence of stone, Such as an army's baffled strength delays, Standing with half its battlements alone, And with two thousand years of ivy grown, The garland of eternity, where wave The green leaves over all by time o'erthrown ; — What was this tower of strength ? within its cave What treasure lay so lock'd, so hid ? — A woman's grave.
Sida 104 - 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 Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean— roll!
Sida 60 - 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 38 - Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome; The trees which grew along the broken arches Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars Shone through the rents of ruin; from afar The watch-dog bayed beyond the Tiber ; and More near from out the Caesars...
Sida 279 - Must we but blush? — Our fathers bled. Earth! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead! Of the three hundred grant but three To make a new Thermopylae! What, silent still ? and silent all ? Ah, no; — the voices of the dead Sound like a distant torrent's fall, And answer, " Let one living head, But one, arise — we come, we come!
Sida 104 - Ye Elements, in whose ennobling stir I feel myself exalted, can ye not Accord me such a being ? Do I err In deeming such inhabit many a spot, Though with them to converse can rarely be our lot...
Sida 60 - In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more, And silent rows the songless gondolier ; Her palaces are crumbling to the shore, And music meets not always now the ear, Those days are gone — but Beauty still is here. States fall, arts fade — but Nature doth not die: Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear, 18 The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy...
Sida 96 - But thou, of temples old, or altars new, Standest alone, with nothing like to thee — Worthiest of God, the holy and the true. Since Zion's desolation, when that He Forsook his former city, what could be, Of earthly structures, in his honour piled, Of a sublimer aspect? Majesty, Power, Glory, Strength, and Beauty all are aisled In this eternal ark of worship undefiled.