Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt |
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Sida 7
... Beauty long hath there been matchless deem'a : Not in those visions to the heart displaying Forms which it sighs but to have only dream'd , Hath aught like thee in truth or fancy seem'd : Nor , having seen thee , shall I vainly seek To ...
... Beauty long hath there been matchless deem'a : Not in those visions to the heart displaying Forms which it sighs but to have only dream'd , Hath aught like thee in truth or fancy seem'd : Nor , having seen thee , shall I vainly seek To ...
Sida 16
... beauty glow . XX . Then slowly climb the many - winding way , And frequent turn to linger as you go , From loftier rocks new loveliness survey And rest ye at " Our Lady's house of woe ; " ( 1 ) Where frugal monks their little relics ...
... beauty glow . XX . Then slowly climb the many - winding way , And frequent turn to linger as you go , From loftier rocks new loveliness survey And rest ye at " Our Lady's house of woe ; " ( 1 ) Where frugal monks their little relics ...
Sida 33
... Beauty's bower he pensive sate , Pour'd forth this unpremeditated lay , To charms as fair as those that soothed his happier day . ( 1 ) " Medio de fonte leporum Surgit amari aliquid quod in ipsis floribus angat . " Lve . TO INEZ . 1 ...
... Beauty's bower he pensive sate , Pour'd forth this unpremeditated lay , To charms as fair as those that soothed his happier day . ( 1 ) " Medio de fonte leporum Surgit amari aliquid quod in ipsis floribus angat . " Lve . TO INEZ . 1 ...
Sida 34
... Beauty brings ; Thine eyes have scarce a charm for me . 5 . It is that settled , ceaseless gloom The fabled Hebrew wanderer bore ; That will not look beyond the tomb , But cannot hope for rest before . 6 . What Exile from himself can ...
... Beauty brings ; Thine eyes have scarce a charm for me . 5 . It is that settled , ceaseless gloom The fabled Hebrew wanderer bore ; That will not look beyond the tomb , But cannot hope for rest before . 6 . What Exile from himself can ...
Sida 50
... Beauty from her bondsmen claims : And much she marvell'd that a youth so raw Nor felt , nor feign'd at least , the oft - told flames , Which , though sometimes they frown , yet rarely ang XXXIII . ; Little knew she that seeming marble ...
... Beauty from her bondsmen claims : And much she marvell'd that a youth so raw Nor felt , nor feign'd at least , the oft - told flames , Which , though sometimes they frown , yet rarely ang XXXIII . ; Little knew she that seeming marble ...
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Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt. (Harrow ed.). George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1831 |
Vanliga ord och fraser
Albanian Ali Pacha ancient Ariosto Athens beauty beheld beneath blood Boccaccio bosom breast breath brow Cæsar Canto Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE church Cicero Constantinople dark death deem'd deep doth dust earth Egeria fair fame feel Ficus Ruminalis foes gaze glory gondoliers Greece Greek hand hath heart heaven hills Historical Notes honour hope immortal Italian Italy lake land lightning live Lord mind mortal mountains never o'er once pass Petrarch plain poet Pouqueville rock Romaic Roman Rome ruin scene shore sigh smile song soul spot Stanza Storia Tasso tears temple thee thine things thou thought tomb triumph Venetians Venice walls waves wild winds woes wolf ἀπὸ δὲν διὰ Ἐγὼ εἶναι εἰς εἰς τὴν ἐν καὶ κὴ μὲ νὰ σᾶς τὰ τὰς τὴν τῆς τὸ τὸν τοῦ τοὺς τῶν ὡς
Populära avsnitt
Sida 126 - The sky is changed ! — and such a change ! Oh night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman ! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder ! Not from one lone cloud, But every mountain now hath found a tongue, And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud!
Sida 189 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be or have been before, To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne'er express, yet can not all conceal.
Sida 107 - There have been tears and breaking hearts for thee, And mine were nothing, had I such to give ; But when I stood beneath the fresh green tree, Which living waves where thou didst cease to live, And saw around me the wide field revive With fruits and fertile promise, and the Spring Come forth her work of gladness to contrive, With all her reckless birds upon the wing, I turn'd from all she brought to those she could not bring.
Sida 190 - And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight : and if the freshening sea Made them a terror — 'twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.
Sida 127 - 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, oh tempests ! is the goal ? Are ye like those within the human breast ? Or do ye find, at length, like eagles, some high nest ? XCVII.
Sida 42 - Ancient of days ! august Athena ! where, Where are thy men of might ? thy grand in soul ? Gone — glimmering through the dream of things that were...
Sida 99 - 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 106 - 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 124 - He is an evening reveller, who makes His life an infancy, and sings his fill; At intervals, some bird from out the brakes Starts into voice a moment, then is still. There seems a floating whisper on the hill, But that is fancy, for the starlight dews All silently their tears of love instil, Weeping themselves away, till they infuse Deep into Nature's breast the spirit of her hues.
Sida 101 - Yet must I think less wildly : — I have thought Too long and darkly, till my brain became, In its own eddy boiling and o'erwrought, A whirling gulf of phantasy and flame : And thus, untaught in youth my heart to tame, My springs of life were poison'd.