The Works of Lord Byron: 2Bernhard Tauchnitz, 1866 - 521 sidor |
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Sida 15
... turn to linger as you go , From loftier rocks new loveliness survey , And rest ye at " Our Lady's house of woe ; " Where frugal monks their little relics show , And sundry legends to the stranger tell : Here impious men have punish'd ...
... turn to linger as you go , From loftier rocks new loveliness survey , And rest ye at " Our Lady's house of woe ; " Where frugal monks their little relics show , And sundry legends to the stranger tell : Here impious men have punish'd ...
Sida 17
... turn'd a nation's shallow joy to gloom . Here Folly dash'd to earth the victor's plume , And Policy regain'd what arms had lost : For chiefs like ours in vain may laurels bloom ! Woe to the conqu'ring , not the conquer'd host , Since ...
... turn'd a nation's shallow joy to gloom . Here Folly dash'd to earth the victor's plume , And Policy regain'd what arms had lost : For chiefs like ours in vain may laurels bloom ! Woe to the conqu'ring , not the conquer'd host , Since ...
Sida 25
... turn Morena's dusky height Sustains aloft the battery's iron load ; And , far as mortal eye can compass sight , The mountain - howitzer , the broken road , The bristling palisade , the fosse o'erflow'd , The station'd bands , the never ...
... turn Morena's dusky height Sustains aloft the battery's iron load ; And , far as mortal eye can compass sight , The mountain - howitzer , the broken road , The bristling palisade , the fosse o'erflow'd , The station'd bands , the never ...
Sida 29
... turn'd aside to pay my homage here ; Forgot the land , the sons , the maids of Spain ; Her fate , to every freeborn bosom dear ; And hail'd thee , not perchance without a tear . Now to my theme but from thy hoiy haunt ---- Let me some ...
... turn'd aside to pay my homage here ; Forgot the land , the sons , the maids of Spain ; Her fate , to every freeborn bosom dear ; And hail'd thee , not perchance without a tear . Now to my theme but from thy hoiy haunt ---- Let me some ...
Sida 30
... turns . LXVIII . The Sabbath comes , a day of blessed rest ; What hallows it upon this Christian shore ? Lo ! it is sacred to a solemn feast ; Hark ! heard you not the forest - monarch's roar ? Crashing the lance , he snuffs the ...
... turns . LXVIII . The Sabbath comes , a day of blessed rest ; What hallows it upon this Christian shore ? Lo ! it is sacred to a solemn feast ; Hark ! heard you not the forest - monarch's roar ? Crashing the lance , he snuffs the ...
Vanliga ord och fraser
Albanian Ali Pacha Ariosto arms Athens beauty beheld beneath blood Boccaccio bosom breast breath brow Canto cheek Childe Harold Cicero Conrad dare dark dead death deeds deep doom dread dream earth Egeria fair fame fate fear feel Ficus Ruminalis fix'd gaze Giaour glance gondoliers grave Greece Greek grief Gulnare hand hate hath heard heart heaven hills hope hour Italy Julius Cæsar land Lara Lara's less light lips live lonely look Lord Byron mind mortal mountains ne'er never night o'er once Parisina pass pass'd perchance Petrarch Pouqueville pride rest Roman Rome round scarce scene seem'd seen shine shore sigh slave smile song soul spirit Stanza steed stern tears thee thine things thou thought tomb turn'd twas Venetians Venice voice walls waves Whate'er wild wind words youth