Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A RomauntMacmillan & Company, 1908 - 136 sidor |
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Resultat 1-5 av 14
Sida 4
... behold The smoothness and the sheen of beauty's cheek , Nor feel the heart can never all grow old ? Who can contemplate Fame through clouds unfold The star which rises o'er her steep , nor climb ? Harold , once more within the vortex ...
... behold The smoothness and the sheen of beauty's cheek , Nor feel the heart can never all grow old ? Who can contemplate Fame through clouds unfold The star which rises o'er her steep , nor climb ? Harold , once more within the vortex ...
Sida 10
... 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 ! The thunder - clouds close o ...
... 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 ! The thunder - clouds close o ...
Sida 20
... behold'st them drooping nigh , And know'st them gather'd by the Rhine , And offer'd from my heart to thine ! 4 . The river nobly foams and flows , The charm of this enchanted ground , And all its thousand turns disclose Some fresher ...
... behold'st them drooping nigh , And know'st them gather'd by the Rhine , And offer'd from my heart to thine ! 4 . The river nobly foams and flows , The charm of this enchanted ground , And all its thousand turns disclose Some fresher ...
Sida 25
... behold ; But soon in me shall Loneliness renew Thoughts hid , but not less cherish'd than of old , Ere mingling with the herd had penn'd me in their fold . LXIX . To fly from , need not be to hate , mankind : All are not fit with them ...
... behold ; But soon in me shall Loneliness renew Thoughts hid , but not less cherish'd than of old , Ere mingling with the herd had penn'd me in their fold . LXIX . To fly from , need not be to hate , mankind : All are not fit with them ...
Sida 40
... behold , My voice shall with thy future visions blend , And reach into thy heart , when mine is cold , A token and a tone , even from thy father's mould . CXVI . To aid thy mind's development , to watch 40 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE .
... behold , My voice shall with thy future visions blend , And reach into thy heart , when mine is cold , A token and a tone , even from thy father's mould . CXVI . To aid thy mind's development , to watch 40 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE .
Vanliga ord och fraser
Aeneid Alps Apollo Belvedere arch Arqua Aventicum Bard beauty beheld beneath blood bosom bow'd breast breath bright brow Bucentaur Byron Canto Capitoline Museum charm Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE CLIFTON COLLEGE clouds crown darkness dead death deep desolate didst dome doth dust dwell earth Edited Egeria English Eternity eyes fair fall fame feel Florence foes gaze glory glow gondolier grave Greek hath heart heaven hues hyæna Idlesse immortal Italy J. H. FOWLER lake lake of Geneva Latian light lived mind mortal mountains Napoleon Nature Nature's night o'er ocean passion Petrarch poem poet proud Rhine rise rock Roman Rome ruin scatter'd scene shine shore smile song soul spirit stand stanza stars stream sweet Symplegades tears temple thee thine things thou thought throne thunder thunderstrike tomb tree tyrants unto Venetian Venice victory walls Waterloo waves wert wild wind woes word youth
Populära avsnitt
Sida 10 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, — alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass...
Sida 88 - He heard it, but he heeded not — his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away; He reck'd 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 — All this rushed with his blood — shall he expire, And unavenged?
Sida 26 - 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 31 - Jura, whose capt heights appear Precipitously steep; and drawing near, There breathes a living fragrance from the shore, Of flowers yet fresh with childhood ; on the ear Drops the light drip of the suspended oar, Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol more...
Sida 32 - All heaven and earth are still — though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most; And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep : — All heaven and earth are still : — From the high host Of stars, to the lull'd lake and mountain-coast, All is concenter'd in a life intense, Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost, But hath a part of being, and a sense Of that which is of all Creator and defence, xc.
Sida 77 - 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 101 - 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 pretty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth: — there let him lay.
Sida 1 - Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child ! Ada ! sole daughter of my house and heart ? When last I saw thy young blue eyes they smiled, And then we parted, — not as now we part, * But with a hope.
Sida 102 - 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...
Sida 68 - Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now; The very sepulchres lie tenantless Of their heroic dwellers: dost thou flow. Old Tiber ! through a marble wilderness ? Rise, with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress!