The works of Lord Byron, Volym 3 |
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Sida 17
... . C. Hun . The mists begin to rise from up the valley ; I'll warn him to descend , or he may chance To lose at once his way and life together . VOL . III . C Man . The mists boil up around the glaciers ; SC . II 17 MANFRED .
... . C. Hun . The mists begin to rise from up the valley ; I'll warn him to descend , or he may chance To lose at once his way and life together . VOL . III . C Man . The mists boil up around the glaciers ; SC . II 17 MANFRED .
Sida 23
... once again , I charge thee , follow not ! SCENE II . [ Exit MANFRED . A lower Valley in the Alps . A Cataract . Enter MANFRED . It is not noon - the sunbow's rays ( 1 ) still arch The torrent with the many hues of heaven , And roll the ...
... once again , I charge thee , follow not ! SCENE II . [ Exit MANFRED . A lower Valley in the Alps . A Cataract . Enter MANFRED . It is not noon - the sunbow's rays ( 1 ) still arch The torrent with the many hues of heaven , And roll the ...
Sida 38
... once before I perish The voice which was my music - Speak to me ! For I have call'd on thee in the still night , Startled the slumbering birds from the hush'd boughs , And woke the mountain wolves , and made the caves Acquainted with ...
... once before I perish The voice which was my music - Speak to me ! For I have call'd on thee in the still night , Startled the slumbering birds from the hush'd boughs , And woke the mountain wolves , and made the caves Acquainted with ...
Sida 39
... once - once more ! Phantom of Astarte . Manfred ! Man . Say on , say on- I live but in the sound - it is thy voice ! Phan . Manfred ! To - morrow ends thine earthly ills . Farewell ! Man . Yet one word more - am I forgiven ? Phan ...
... once - once more ! Phantom of Astarte . Manfred ! Man . Say on , say on- I live but in the sound - it is thy voice ! Phan . Manfred ! To - morrow ends thine earthly ills . Farewell ! Man . Yet one word more - am I forgiven ? Phan ...
Sida 41
... once : It hath enlarged my thoughts with a new sense , And I within my tablets would note down That there is such a feeling . Who is there ? Re - enter HERMAN . Her . My lord , the abbot of St. Maurice craves To greet your presence ...
... once : It hath enlarged my thoughts with a new sense , And I within my tablets would note down That there is such a feeling . Who is there ? Re - enter HERMAN . Her . My lord , the abbot of St. Maurice craves To greet your presence ...
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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...