The works of lord Byron, Volym 1 |
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Resultat 1-5 av 41
Sida 44
... least like me , awake ! 8 . Through many a clime ' tis mine to go , With many a retrospection curst ; And all my solace is to know , Whate'er betides , I've known the worst . 9 . What is that worst ? Nay do not ask- In pity from the ...
... least like me , awake ! 8 . Through many a clime ' tis mine to go , With many a retrospection curst ; And all my solace is to know , Whate'er betides , I've known the worst . 9 . What is that worst ? Nay do not ask- In pity from the ...
Sida 59
... 'd that a youth so raw Nor felt , nor feign'd at least , the oft - told flames , Which , though sometimes they frown , yet rarely anger dames , XXXIII . Little knew she that seeming marble heart , CANTO II 59 PILGRIMAGE .
... 'd that a youth so raw Nor felt , nor feign'd at least , the oft - told flames , Which , though sometimes they frown , yet rarely anger dames , XXXIII . Little knew she that seeming marble heart , CANTO II 59 PILGRIMAGE .
Sida 71
... , all they had : Such conduct bears Philanthropy's rare stamp- To rest the weary and to soothe the sad , Doth lesson happier men , and shames at least the bad . LXIX . It came to pass , that when he CANTO II 71 PILGRIMAGE . saw thee weep.
... , all they had : Such conduct bears Philanthropy's rare stamp- To rest the weary and to soothe the sad , Doth lesson happier men , and shames at least the bad . LXIX . It came to pass , that when he CANTO II 71 PILGRIMAGE . saw thee weep.
Sida 79
... least who owe thee most ; Their birth , their blood , and that sublime record Of hero sires , who shame thy now degenerate horde ! LXXXIV . When riseth Lacedemon's hardihood , When Thebes Epaminondas rears again , When Athens ' children ...
... least who owe thee most ; Their birth , their blood , and that sublime record Of hero sires , who shame thy now degenerate horde ! LXXXIV . When riseth Lacedemon's hardihood , When Thebes Epaminondas rears again , When Athens ' children ...
Sida 86
... least doubt that we should have adorned a tale instead of telling one . The crime of assas- sination is not confined to Portugal : in Sicily and Malta we are knocked on the head at a handsome average nightly , and not a Sicilian or ...
... least doubt that we should have adorned a tale instead of telling one . The crime of assas- sination is not confined to Portugal : in Sicily and Malta we are knocked on the head at a handsome average nightly , and not a Sicilian or ...
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Albania Ali Pacha amongst Arnaout Athens beauty behold beneath blood bosom breast breath brow Cæsar CANTO Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE Constantinople dark deem'd deep doth dust dwell earth Epirus eyes fair fame feel foes French gaze Giaours glory gondoliers Greece Greeks hand hath heart heaven hills honour immortal Italian Joannina lake land less light line last live Lord mind mortal mountains Nature's never o'er once pass passion Petrarch plain Pouqueville proud rock Romaic Roman Rome ruin scatter'd scene shore smile song soul spirit spot Stanza star tears thee thine things thou thought Thrasybulus throne tomb Turks Venetian Venice walls waves wind woes ἀπὸ δὲ δὲν διὰ Ἐγὼ εἶναι εἰς εἰς τὴν Ἑλλήνων ἐν καὶ κατὰ κὴ μὲ νὰ οἱ πῶς σᾶς τὰ τὰς τῇ τὴν τῆς τὸ τὸν τοῦ τοὺς τῶν ὡς
Populära avsnitt
Sida 155 - 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 Blush'd 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 207 - 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 216 - 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 173 - I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me; and to me, High mountains are a feeling, but the hum Of human cities torture...
Sida 174 - Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part Of me and of my soul, as I of them?
Sida 251 - I see before me the Gladiator lie : He leans upon his hand — his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony ; And his droop'd head sinks gradually low ; 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 hail'd the wretch who won.
Sida 166 - The castled crag of Drachenfels 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 253 - But when the rising moon begins to climb Its topmost arch, and gently pauses there; When the stars twinkle through the loops of time, And the low night-breeze waves along the air The...
Sida 179 - Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt In solitude, where we are least alone ; A truth, which through our being then doth melt, And purifies from self : it is a tone, The soul and source of music, which makes known Eternal harmony, and sheds a charm} Like to the fabled Cytherea's zone, Binding all things with beauty;— 'twould disarm The spectre Death, had he substantial power to harm.
Sida 181 - Sky, mountains, river, winds, lake, lightnings! ye, With night, and clouds, and thunder, and a soul To make these felt and feeling, well may be Things that have made me watchful; the far roll Of your departing voices, is the knoll Of what in me is sleepless, — if I rest. But where of ye, O tempests! is the goal? Are ye like those within the human breast? Or do ye find at length, like eagles, some high nest?