Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A RomauntMacmillan & Company, 1908 - 136 sidor |
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Resultat 1-5 av 9
Sida 2
... he can tell Why thought seeks refuge in lone caves , yet rife With airy images , and shapes which dwell Still unimpair'd , though old , in the soul's haunted cell . VI . ' Tis to create , and in creating 2 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE .
... he can tell Why thought seeks refuge in lone caves , yet rife With airy images , and shapes which dwell Still unimpair'd , though old , in the soul's haunted cell . VI . ' Tis to create , and in creating 2 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE .
Sida 15
... dwell In its own narrow being , but aspire Beyond the fitting medium of desire ; And , but once kindled , quenchless evermore , Preys upon high adventure , nor can tire Of aught but rest ; a fever at the core , Fatal to him who bears ...
... dwell In its own narrow being , but aspire Beyond the fitting medium of desire ; And , but once kindled , quenchless evermore , Preys upon high adventure , nor can tire Of aught but rest ; a fever at the core , Fatal to him who bears ...
Sida 20
... dwell delighted here ; Nor could on earth a spot be found To nature and to me so dear , Could thy dear eyes in following mine Still sweeten more these banks of Rhine ! LVI . By Coblentz , on a rise of gentle 20 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE .
... dwell delighted here ; Nor could on earth a spot be found To nature and to me so dear , Could thy dear eyes in following mine Still sweeten more these banks of Rhine ! LVI . By Coblentz , on a rise of gentle 20 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE .
Sida 53
... dwell in darkness and dismay , Deeming themselves predestined to a doom Which is not of the pangs that pass away ; Making the sun like blood , the earth a tomb , The tomb a hell , and hell itself a murkier gloom . XXXV . Ferrara ! in ...
... dwell in darkness and dismay , Deeming themselves predestined to a doom Which is not of the pangs that pass away ; Making the sun like blood , the earth a tomb , The tomb a hell , and hell itself a murkier gloom . XXXV . Ferrara ! in ...
Sida 59
... dwell ; The unruffled mirror of the loveliest dream That ever left the sky on the deep soul to beam . LIV . In Santa Croce's holy precincts lie Ashes which make it holier , dust which is Even in itself an immortality , Though there were ...
... dwell ; The unruffled mirror of the loveliest dream That ever left the sky on the deep soul to beam . LIV . In Santa Croce's holy precincts lie Ashes which make it holier , dust which is Even in itself an immortality , Though there were ...
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!