The works of Lord Byron, Volym 3 |
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Sida 9
... a sphere , without a course A bright deformity on high , The monster of the upper sky ! And thou ! beneath its influence born- Thou worm ! whom I obey and scorn- Forced by a power ( which is not thine , SC . I 9 MANFRED .
... a sphere , without a course A bright deformity on high , The monster of the upper sky ! And thou ! beneath its influence born- Thou worm ! whom I obey and scorn- Forced by a power ( which is not thine , SC . I 9 MANFRED .
Sida 16
... The viewless spirit of a lovely sound , A living voice , a breathing harmony , A bodiless enjoyment - born and dying With the blest tone which made me ! Enter from below a CHAMOIS HUNTER . Chamois Hunter . 16 ACTI MANFRED .
... The viewless spirit of a lovely sound , A living voice , a breathing harmony , A bodiless enjoyment - born and dying With the blest tone which made me ! Enter from below a CHAMOIS HUNTER . Chamois Hunter . 16 ACTI MANFRED .
Sida 17
... born peasant's , at this distance— I will approach him nearer . Man . ( not perceiving the other . ) To be thus- Gray - hair'd with anguish , like these blasted pines , Wrecks of a single winter , barkless , branchless , A blighted ...
... born peasant's , at this distance— I will approach him nearer . Man . ( not perceiving the other . ) To be thus- Gray - hair'd with anguish , like these blasted pines , Wrecks of a single winter , barkless , branchless , A blighted ...
Sida 55
... Born from the knowledge of its own desert . Thou didst not tempt me , and thou couldst not tempt me ; I have not been thy dupe , nor am thy prey— But was my own destroyer , and will be My own hereafter . - Back , ye baffled fiends SC ...
... Born from the knowledge of its own desert . Thou didst not tempt me , and thou couldst not tempt me ; I have not been thy dupe , nor am thy prey— But was my own destroyer , and will be My own hereafter . - Back , ye baffled fiends SC ...
Sida 101
... born their own , Still let them pause - Ah ! little do they know That what to them seem'd Vice might be but Woe . Hard is his fate on whom the public gaze Is fix'd for ever to detract or praise ; Repose denies her requiem to his name ...
... born their own , Still let them pause - Ah ! little do they know That what to them seem'd Vice might be but Woe . Hard is his fate on whom the public gaze Is fix'd for ever to detract or praise ; Repose denies her requiem to his name ...
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The works of lord Byron, Volym 3 George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1823 |
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Abbot Abel Adah Alhama angels answer'd art thou Astarte battle of Chalons battle of Platea bear beautiful behold beneath blood breast breath bright brother brow Cain Cast crowns CHAMOIS clay clouds cold curse dare dark dead death deem'd deep didst dost thou doth dread dream dust dwell earth eternity evil eyes father fear feel gaze glassy ocean glory grave Hast thou hath heart heaven hour immortal light live lone look Lucifer MANFRED Mariamne mind mortal mountain mourn ne'er never night o'er once pain pass'd Pausanias perish R. B. SHERIDAN SCENE serpent shine sleep smile song sorrow soul speak spirit star sweet tears thee thine things thou art thou canst thou hast thou shalt thou wert thought throne thyself torture twere twill voice wave weep Witch words wouldst wretched Zillah
Populära avsnitt
Sida 51 - twere anew, the gaps of centuries ; Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not, till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old, — The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns.
Sida 87 - And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord...
Sida 61 - And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent ! THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
Sida 220 - I saw two beings in the hues of youth Standing upon a hill, a gentle hill. Green and of mild declivity, the last As 'twere the cape of a long ridge of such, Save that there was no sea to lave its base, But a most living landscape, and the wave Of woods and corn-fields, and the abodes of men Scattered at intervals, and wreathing smoke Arising from such rustic roofs...
Sida 50 - The stars are forth, the moon above the tops Of the snow-shining mountains. — Beautiful ! I linger yet with Nature, for the night Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man; and in her starry shade Of dim and solitary loveliness, I learn'd the language of another world.
Sida 146 - I will not ask where thou liest low, Nor gaze upon the spot; There flowers or weeds at will may grow, So I behold them not: It is enough for me to prove That what I loved, and long must love, Like common earth can rot; To me there needs no stone to tell, Tis nothing that I loved so well.
Sida 26 - For if the beings, of whom I was one, — Hating to be so, — cross'd me in my path, I felt myself degraded back to them, And was all clay again.
Sida 23 - It is not noon — the sunbow's rays ' still arch The torrent with the many hues of heaven, And roll the sheeted silver's waving column O'er the crag's headlong perpendicular, And fling its lines of foaming light along, And to and fro, like the pale courser's tail, The Giant steed, to be bestrode by Death, As told in the Apocalypse.
Sida 148 - As once I wept, if I could weep My tears might well be shed, To think I was not near to keep One vigil o'er thy bed; To gaze, how fondly ! on thy face, To fold thee in a faint embrace, Uphold thy drooping head; And show that love, however vain, Nor thou nor I can feel again.
Sida 192 - Twas not well to spurn it so. Though the world for this commend thee Though it smile upon the blow, Even its praises must offend thee, Founded on another's woe: Though my many faults defaced me, Could no other arm be found, Than the one which once embraced me, To inflict a cureless wound ? Yet, oh yet, thyself deceive not ; Love may sink by slow decay, But by sudden wrench, believe not Hearts can thus be torn away...