Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A RomauntH. C. Baird, 1856 - 339 sidor |
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Sida 4
... poets , admits of every variety . Dr. Beattie makes the following observation ; - " Not long ago , I began a poem in the style and stanza of Spenser , in which I propose to give full scope to my inclination , and be either droll or ...
... poets , admits of every variety . Dr. Beattie makes the following observation ; - " Not long ago , I began a poem in the style and stanza of Spenser , in which I propose to give full scope to my inclination , and be either droll or ...
Sida 13
... poetic inspiration : we drank deep , too , of the spring ; but― ( I can answer for myself ) -without feeling sensible of any extraordinary effect . ” — E . ] [ This stanza is not in the original MS . ] II . Whilome in Albion's isle ...
... poetic inspiration : we drank deep , too , of the spring ; but― ( I can answer for myself ) -without feeling sensible of any extraordinary effect . ” — E . ] [ This stanza is not in the original MS . ] II . Whilome in Albion's isle ...
Sida 19
... poet , in a letter to his mother ; " I like him , because , like myself , he seems a friendless animal : tell his father he is well and doing well . " [ " Our best goshawk can hardly fly 1 2 So merrily along . ” — MS . ] [ " Oh master ...
... poet , in a letter to his mother ; " I like him , because , like myself , he seems a friendless animal : tell his father he is well and doing well . " [ " Our best goshawk can hardly fly 1 2 So merrily along . ” — MS . ] [ " Oh master ...
Sida 21
... poet has now established himself as the keeper of an Italian warehouse , in Charles Street , Berkeley Square , where , if he does not thrive , every one who knows any thing of his character will say he deserves to do so . ] 1 [ " Enough ...
... poet has now established himself as the keeper of an Italian warehouse , in Charles Street , Berkeley Square , where , if he does not thrive , every one who knows any thing of his character will say he deserves to do so . ] 1 [ " Enough ...
Sida 24
... poets vainly pave with sands of gold , But now whereon a thousand keels did ride Of mighty strength , since Albion was allied , And to the Lusians did her aid afford : 2 A nation swoln with ignorance and pride , Who lick yet loathe the ...
... poets vainly pave with sands of gold , But now whereon a thousand keels did ride Of mighty strength , since Albion was allied , And to the Lusians did her aid afford : 2 A nation swoln with ignorance and pride , Who lick yet loathe the ...
Andra upplagor - Visa alla
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1860 |
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1846 |
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1854 |
Vanliga ord och fraser
Alban hill Albanians amongst ancient Ariosto Athens beauty behold beneath better blood Boccaccio bosom breast Cæsar Calf antique called CANTO charms Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE church Cicero Cloth extra Constantinople dark death deem'd deep earth edition Egeria fair fame feel foes French gaze gilt gondoliers Greece Greek Half calf hand hath heart heaven hills Historical Notes honour hope hour Illustrated immortal Italian Italy Julius Cæsar lake land light Lord Byron maid mind moroc mortal mountains ne'er never o'er once palace pass passion Petrarch plain poem poet Pouqueville rock Roman Rome ruins says scene seems seen shore sigh smile song soul spirit spot stanza Tasso tears temple thee thine thing thou thought tion tomb traveller Turk Venetians Venice volume walls waves wild woes wolf
Populära avsnitt
Sida 249 - 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 127 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street : On with the dance ! let joy be unconfined ; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing hours with flying feet...
Sida 186 - The moon is up, and yet it is not night — Sunset divides the sky with her — a sea Of glory streams along the Alpine height Of blue Friuli's mountains ; heaven is free From clouds, but of all colours seems to be Melted to one vast Iris of the West, Where the day joins the past Eternity; While, on the other hand, meek Dian's crest Floats through the azure air — an island of the blest...
Sida 247 - His steps are not upon thy paths — thy fields Are not a spoil for him — thou dost arise And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray, And howling, to his Gods, where haply lies His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth — there let him lay.
Sida 140 - Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, Whose breast of waters broadly swells Between the banks which bear the vine, And hills all rich with blossom'd trees, And fields which promise corn and wine, And scatter'd cities crowning these, Whose far white walls along them shine, Have strew'da scene, which I should see With double joy wert thou with me.
Sida 129 - 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 178 - 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, The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!
Sida 109 - tis haunted, holy ground, No earth of thine is lost in vulgar mould, But one vast realm of wonder spreads around, And all the Muse's tales seem truly told, Till the sense aches with gazing to behold The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt upon: Each hill and dale, each deepening glen and wold Defies the power which crush'd thy temples gone: Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray Marathon.
Sida 160 - Could I embody and unbosom now That which is most within me, — could I wreak My thoughts upon expression, and thus throw Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings, strong or weak, All that I would have sought, and all I seek, Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe— into one word, And that one word were Lightning, I would speak ; But as it is, I live and die unheard, With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword.
Sida 156 - Ye stars ! which are the poetry of heaven, If in your bright leaves we would read the fate Of men and empires, — 'tis to be forgiven, That in our aspirations to be great, Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, And claim a kindred with you ; for ye are A beauty, and a mystery, and create G In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star.