Childe Harold's PilgrimageCaldwell, 1899 - 270 sider |
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Side 15
... dwell , Which seem'd to him more lone than Eremite's sad cell . 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 ...
... dwell , Which seem'd to him more lone than Eremite's sad cell . 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 ...
Side 139
... : ' Tis but a worthless world to win or lose ; So hath it proved to thee , and all such lot who XLI . If , like a tower upon a headland. choose . dwell In its own narrow being , but aspire * Childe Harold's Pilgrimage . 139.
... : ' Tis but a worthless world to win or lose ; So hath it proved to thee , and all such lot who XLI . If , like a tower upon a headland. choose . dwell In its own narrow being , but aspire * Childe Harold's Pilgrimage . 139.
Side 238
... 'd by thebreath of heaven , seems colour'd by its skies . CXVIII . Here didst thou dwell , in this enchanted cover , Egeria ! thy all heavenly bosom beating For the far footsteps of thy mortal lover ; The 238 Childe Narold's Pilgrimage .
... 'd by thebreath of heaven , seems colour'd by its skies . CXVIII . Here didst thou dwell , in this enchanted cover , Egeria ! thy all heavenly bosom beating For the far footsteps of thy mortal lover ; The 238 Childe Narold's Pilgrimage .
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banks bear beauty behold beneath blood blue bosom breast breath bright brow charms chief Childe clouds dark dead dear death deem deep doth dream dust dwell earth fair fall fame fate feel fire foes gaze Glory grave hand Harold hath heart heaven hills hope hour immortal Italy land leaves less light live lone look lord lost mark mind mortal mountain Nature never night o'er once pass passion past plain pride proud rise rock round ruin scarce scene seek seems seen shore shrine sigh smile song soul sound spirit spring stand star stream sweet tears thee thine things thou thought thousand till tomb tree turn vain voice walls waters waves wild wind woes young youth