Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt. (Harrow ed.). |
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Sida 10
... hours decreed . Oh ! let that eye , which , wild as the Gazelle's , Now brightly bold or beautifully shy , Wins as it wanders , dazzles where it dwells , Glance o'er this page - nor to my verse deny That smile for which my breast might ...
... hours decreed . Oh ! let that eye , which , wild as the Gazelle's , Now brightly bold or beautifully shy , Wins as it wanders , dazzles where it dwells , Glance o'er this page - nor to my verse deny That smile for which my breast might ...
Sida 13
... hour ; The heartless parasites of present cheer . Yea ! none did love him --- not his lemans dear- But pomp and power alone are woman's care , And where these are light Eros finds a feere ; Maidens , like moths , are ever caught by ...
... hour ; The heartless parasites of present cheer . Yea ! none did love him --- not his lemans dear- But pomp and power alone are woman's care , And where these are light Eros finds a feere ; Maidens , like moths , are ever caught by ...
Sida 14
... - the breakers roar , And shrieks the wild seamew . Yon Sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight ; Farewell awhile to him and thee , My native Land - Good Night ! 2 . " A few short hours and He will 14 CHILDE HAROLD'S.
... - the breakers roar , And shrieks the wild seamew . Yon Sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight ; Farewell awhile to him and thee , My native Land - Good Night ! 2 . " A few short hours and He will 14 CHILDE HAROLD'S.
Sida 15
... hours and He will rise To give the Morrow birth ; And I shall hail the main and skies , But not my mother Earth . Deserted is my own good hall , Its hearth is desolate ; Wild weeds are gathering on the wall ; My dog howls at the gate ...
... hours and He will rise To give the Morrow birth ; And I shall hail the main and skies , But not my mother Earth . Deserted is my own good hall , Its hearth is desolate ; Wild weeds are gathering on the wall ; My dog howls at the gate ...
Sida 25
... hour ! ' Gainst fate to strive Where Desolation plants her famished brood , Is vain ; or Ilion , Tyre might yet ... hours consume , Nor bleed these patriots with their country's wounds : Not here War's clarion , but Love's rebeck sounds ...
... hour ! ' Gainst fate to strive Where Desolation plants her famished brood , Is vain ; or Ilion , Tyre might yet ... hours consume , Nor bleed these patriots with their country's wounds : Not here War's clarion , but Love's rebeck sounds ...
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Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1860 |
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Albania Ali Pacha amidst amongst ancient Ariosto Athens beauty behold beneath blood Boccaccio bosom breast breath brow Cæsar called CANTO Certaldo Childe Harold Childe Harold's Pilgrimage church Cicero Constantinople dark death deemed deep doth dread dust dwell earth Epirus fair fall fame fate feel Ficus Ruminalis Florence foes French gaze glory glow gondoliers Greece Greeks hand hath heart heaven hills honour hope hour immortal Italian Italy John Duncombe Julius Cæsar lake land less light line last live look Lord mind mortal mountains ne'er never o'er once passed passion Petrarch plain poet Pouqueville rock Roman Rome ruin scene seems seen shore shrine sigh slave smile song soul spirit spot Stanza stream tears temple thee thine things thou thought tomb tree triumph Turks tyrants Venetians Venice walls waves wild winds woes words youth
Populära avsnitt
Sida 72 - Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness: And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts; and choking sighs. Which ne'er might be repeated...
Sida 71 - 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 146 - The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, And monarchs tremble in their capitals, The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war ; These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.
Sida 77 - He who ascends to mountain-tops, shall find The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow ; He who surpasses or subdues mankind, Must look down on the hate of those below. Though high above the sun of glory glow, And far beneath the earth and ocean spread, Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow Contending tempests on his naked head, And thus reward the toils which to those summits led.
Sida 136 - And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder-shower ; and now The arena swims around him — he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won. He heard it, but he heeded not — his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away...
Sida 120 - 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.
Sida 72 - Cameron's gathering' rose! The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes: How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills Their...
Sida 147 - And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight : and if the freshening sea Made them a terror — '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 146 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean— roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy...
Sida 147 - 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...