Childe Harold's PilgrimageCaldwell, 1899 - 270 sider |
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Side 37
... honour'd fools ! Yes , Honour decks the turf that wraps their clay ! Vain Sophistry ! in these behold the tools , The broken tools , that tyrants cast away By myriads , when they dare to pave their way With human hearts — to what ? -a ...
... honour'd fools ! Yes , Honour decks the turf that wraps their clay ! Vain Sophistry ! in these behold the tools , The broken tools , that tyrants cast away By myriads , when they dare to pave their way With human hearts — to what ? -a ...
Side 82
... honour lost , These are thy fruits , successful Passion ! these ! If , kindly cruel , early hope is crost , Still to the last it rankles , a disease , Not to be cured when Love itself forgets to please . XXXVI . Away ! nor let me loiter ...
... honour lost , These are thy fruits , successful Passion ! these ! If , kindly cruel , early hope is crost , Still to the last it rankles , a disease , Not to be cured when Love itself forgets to please . XXXVI . Away ! nor let me loiter ...
Side 181
... honour to myself by the record of many years ' intimacy with a man of learning , of talent , of steadiness , and of honour . It is not for minds like ours to give or to receive flattery ; yet the praises of sincerity have ever been ...
... honour to myself by the record of many years ' intimacy with a man of learning , of talent , of steadiness , and of honour . It is not for minds like ours to give or to receive flattery ; yet the praises of sincerity have ever been ...
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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