Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt |
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Sida 7
... seem'd : Nor , having seen thee , shall I vainly seek To paint those charms which varied as they beam'd - To such as see thee not my words were weak ; To those who gaze on thee what language could they speak ? Ah ! may'st thou ever be ...
... seem'd : Nor , having seen thee , shall I vainly seek To paint those charms which varied as they beam'd - To such as see thee not my words were weak ; To those who gaze on thee what language could they speak ? Ah ! may'st thou ever be ...
Sida 10
... seem'd to him more lone than Eremite's sad cel V. For he through Sin's long labyrinth had run , Nor made atonement when he did amiss , Had sigh'd to many though he loved but one , And that loved one , alas ! could ne'er be his . Ah ...
... seem'd to him more lone than Eremite's sad cel V. For he through Sin's long labyrinth had run , Nor made atonement when he did amiss , Had sigh'd to many though he loved but one , And that loved one , alas ! could ne'er be his . Ah ...
Sida 15
... seems to be , Disconsolate will wander up and down , ' Mid many things unsightly to strange ee ; For hut and palace show like filthily : The dingy denizens are rear'd in dirt ; Ne personage of high or mean degree Doth care for cleanness ...
... seems to be , Disconsolate will wander up and down , ' Mid many things unsightly to strange ee ; For hut and palace show like filthily : The dingy denizens are rear'd in dirt ; Ne personage of high or mean degree Doth care for cleanness ...
Sida 33
... seem , Full from the fount of Joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings . ( ' ) LXXXIII . Yet to the beauteous form he was not blind , Though row it moved him as it moves the wise ; Not that ...
... seem , Full from the fount of Joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings . ( ' ) LXXXIII . Yet to the beauteous form he was not blind , Though row it moved him as it moves the wise ; Not that ...
Sida 34
... demon Thought . 7 . Yet others rapt in pleasure seem , And taste of all that I forsake ; Oh ! may they still of transport dream , And ne'er , at least like me , awake ! 8 . Through many a clime ' tis mine to. 84 CHILDE HAROLD'S.
... demon Thought . 7 . Yet others rapt in pleasure seem , And taste of all that I forsake ; Oh ! may they still of transport dream , And ne'er , at least like me , awake ! 8 . Through many a clime ' tis mine to. 84 CHILDE HAROLD'S.
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Childe Harold's pilgrimage, a romaunt. (Harrow ed.). George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1831 |
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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.