Byron's Childe Harold (canto IV): Prisoner of Chillon and Other SelectionsAmerican Book Company, 1911 - 170 sidor |
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Sida 11
... live to lead it to battle . The great poet died of a fever at Missolonghi , three months after having completed his thirty - sixth year . His last words , spoken in delirium , were true to his nature : " Forward , forward ! Follow me ...
... live to lead it to battle . The great poet died of a fever at Missolonghi , three months after having completed his thirty - sixth year . His last words , spoken in delirium , were true to his nature : " Forward , forward ! Follow me ...
Sida 44
... live It o'er once more , and be a page , The happy page , who was the lord Of one soft heart , and his own sword , And had no other gem nor wealth Save nature's gift of youth and health . We met in secret - doubly sweet , Some say ...
... live It o'er once more , and be a page , The happy page , who was the lord Of one soft heart , and his own sword , And had no other gem nor wealth Save nature's gift of youth and health . We met in secret - doubly sweet , Some say ...
Sida 67
... live A being more intense , that we endow With form our fancy , gaining as we give The life we image , even as I do now.2 What am I ? Nothing : but not so art thou , 50 Soul of my thought ! with whom I traverse earth , Invisible but ...
... live A being more intense , that we endow With form our fancy , gaining as we give The life we image , even as I do now.2 What am I ? Nothing : but not so art thou , 50 Soul of my thought ! with whom I traverse earth , Invisible but ...
Sida 77
... live , And saw around me the wide field revive With fruits and fertile promise , and the Spring Come forth her work of gladness to contrive , With all her reckless birds upon the wing , 265 I turned from all she brought to those she ...
... live , And saw around me the wide field revive With fruits and fertile promise , and the Spring Come forth her work of gladness to contrive , With all her reckless birds upon the wing , 265 I turned from all she brought to those she ...
Sida 78
... live on : 1 XXXIII . Even as a broken mirror , which the glass In every fragment multiplies ; and makes 290 A thousand images of one that was , The same , and still the more , the more it breaks ; And thus the heart will do which not ...
... live on : 1 XXXIII . Even as a broken mirror , which the glass In every fragment multiplies ; and makes 290 A thousand images of one that was , The same , and still the more , the more it breaks ; And thus the heart will do which not ...
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Bards battle of Pultowa beauty beheld beneath blood Boccaccio born breast breath bright brow Byron Cæsar Canto chain Childe Harold Childe Harold's Pilgrimage clay cloud cold Cossack courser dark dead death deemed deep died divine dost doth dread dungeon dust dwell earth Egeria eternal eyes fame feel fettered foam gaze glory grave Greece Greek hath heart heaven Hetman hope horse hour immortal Italy king lake limbs literary Lord Mazeppa mighty mind monarch mother mountain Nature's Newstead Abbey night o'er ocean once pain Perchance Petrarch poem poet poetry Prisoner of Chillon proud Roman Rome round ruin Samian wine shore sigh sire skies smile song soul spirit stanzas star steed sword tears thee thine things thou thought thousand throne tomb TOZER tree twas tyrant Ukraine Venice walls waters waves wild wind woes youth ΙΟ
Populära avsnitt
Sida 155 - Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave. A king sate on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis; And ships by thousands lay below, And men in nations; — all were his! He counted them at break of day, And when the sun set, where were they?
Sida 74 - 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.— But hark!
Sida 151 - 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 151 - 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 75 - And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips - 'The foe! they come! they come!
Sida 84 - 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 150 - 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 deed...
Sida 137 - Were with his heart, and that was far away. He recked 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, Butchered to make a Roman holiday!
Sida 17 - Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar; for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard! — May none those marks efface! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
Sida 152 - 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.