Selections from the Poetry of Lord ByronH. Holt, 1900 - 412 sidor |
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Sida 78
... beautiful , and cast O'er erring deeds and thoughts , a heavenly hue Of words like sunbeams , dazzling as they past The eyes , which o'er them shed tears feelingly and fast . LXXVIII . His love was passion's essence — as a tree On fire ...
... beautiful , and cast O'er erring deeds and thoughts , a heavenly hue Of words like sunbeams , dazzling as they past The eyes , which o'er them shed tears feelingly and fast . LXXVIII . His love was passion's essence — as a tree On fire ...
Sida 94
... beautiful than our fantastic sky , And the strange constellations which the Muse O'er her wild universe is skilful to diffuse : VII . I saw or dream'd of such , —but let them go , - They came like truth , and disappear'd like dreams ...
... beautiful than our fantastic sky , And the strange constellations which the Muse O'er her wild universe is skilful to diffuse : VII . I saw or dream'd of such , —but let them go , - They came like truth , and disappear'd like dreams ...
Sida 100
... beautiful , the brave - the lords of earth and sea , XXVI . The commonwealth of kings , the men of Rome ! And even since , and now , fair Italy ! Thou art the garden of the world , the home Of all Art yields , and Nature can decree ...
... beautiful , the brave - the lords of earth and sea , XXVI . The commonwealth of kings , the men of Rome ! And even since , and now , fair Italy ! Thou art the garden of the world , the home Of all Art yields , and Nature can decree ...
Sida 115
... -Look back ! Lo ! where it comes like an eternity , As if to sweep down all things in its track , Charming the eye with dread , → -a matchless cataract , LXXII . Horribly beautiful ! but on the verge , CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE 115.
... -Look back ! Lo ! where it comes like an eternity , As if to sweep down all things in its track , Charming the eye with dread , → -a matchless cataract , LXXII . Horribly beautiful ! but on the verge , CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE 115.
Sida 116
George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Frederic Ives Carpenter. LXXII . Horribly beautiful ! but on the verge , From side to side , beneath the glittering morn , An Iris sits , amidst the infernal surge , Like Hope upon a deathbed , and ...
George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Frederic Ives Carpenter. LXXII . Horribly beautiful ! but on the verge , From side to side , beneath the glittering morn , An Iris sits , amidst the infernal surge , Like Hope upon a deathbed , and ...
Andra upplagor - Visa alla
Selections from the Poetry of Lord Byron George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1900 |
Selections from the Poems of Lord Byron George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1920 |
Selections from the Poems of Lord Byron George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1898 |
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Abbot Æschylus Alps Astarte Athens beauty behold beneath blood breast breath brow Byron Byron's note Cain canto Capitoline hill Childe Harold Chillon clouds Countess Guiccioli dark death deep Don Juan doth dread dream earth edition eternal eyes fair fame Faust feel gaze Giaour glory grave Greece hath heart heaven Hell hour human immortal Jungfrau lake land lines living Lord Lord Byron Lucifer lyric Manfred Manfred's Mazeppa mind mortal mountains nature ne'er never night o'er ocean pass'd passage passion Pausanias perhaps poem poet poet's poetic poetry Prisoner of Chillon rhyme rock sail Samian wine scene seem'd Shelley Shipwreck shore Siege of Corinth smile song soul spirit stanzas star story suggested sweet tears thee thine things thought Twas Venice verse waters wave wild wind Witch woes words Wordsworth written youth ΙΟ
Populära avsnitt
Sida 153 - twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.
Sida 153 - Thou glorious mirror, where the 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 303 - My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone! The fire that on my bosom preys Is lone as some volcanic isle; No torch is kindled at its blaze — A funeral pile. The hope, the fear, the jealous care, The exalted portion of the pain And power of love, I cannot share, But wear the chain.
Sida 128 - There is the moral of all human tales; 'Tis but the same rehearsal of the past, First Freedom, and then Glory — when that fails, Wealth, vice, corruption, — barbarism at last. And History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page...
Sida 263 - The isles of Greece ! the isles of Greece ! "Where burning Sappho loved and sung, — Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung ! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set. The Scian and the Teian muse, The hero's harp, the lover's lute, Have found the fame your shores refuse ; Their place of birth alone is mute To sounds which echo further west Than your sires'
Sida 264 - And where are they? and where art thou, My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now, The heroic bosom beats no more ! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine?
Sida 246 - Louder than the loud ocean, like a crash Of echoing thunder; and then all was hush'd, Save the wild wind and the remorseless dash Of billows; but at intervals there gush'd, Accompanied with a convulsive splash, A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry Of some strong swimmer in his agony.
Sida 296 - 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.
Sida 266 - But words are things ; and a small drop of ink, Falling, like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions think...
Sida 291 - These scenes, their story not unknown, Arise, and make again your own; Snatch from the ashes of your sires The embers of their former fires; And he who in the strife expires Will add to theirs a name of fear That Tyranny shall quake to hear...