Childe Harold's PilgrimageCaldwell, 1899 - 270 sider |
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Side 51
... o'er entrails freshly torn , Nor shrinks the female eye , nor even affects to mourn . LXIX . The seventh day this : the jubilee of man . London ! right well thou know'st the day of prayer : Then thy spruce citizen , wash'd artisan , And ...
... o'er entrails freshly torn , Nor shrinks the female eye , nor even affects to mourn . LXIX . The seventh day this : the jubilee of man . London ! right well thou know'st the day of prayer : Then thy spruce citizen , wash'd artisan , And ...
Side 77
... o'er the vessel's laving side , To gaze on Dian's wave - reflected sphere , The soul forgets her schemes of Hope and Pride , And flies unconscious o'er each backward year . None are so desolate but something dear , Dearer than self ...
... o'er the vessel's laving side , To gaze on Dian's wave - reflected sphere , The soul forgets her schemes of Hope and Pride , And flies unconscious o'er each backward year . None are so desolate but something dear , Dearer than self ...
Side 119
... O'er hearts divided and o'er hopes destroy'd : Roll on , vain days ! full reckless may ye flow , Since Time hath reft whate'er my soul enjoy'd , And with the ills of Eld mine earlier years alloy'd . ( CANTO THE THIRD . 1816 . “ Afin que ...
... O'er hearts divided and o'er hopes destroy'd : Roll on , vain days ! full reckless may ye flow , Since Time hath reft whate'er my soul enjoy'd , And with the ills of Eld mine earlier years alloy'd . ( CANTO THE THIRD . 1816 . “ Afin que ...
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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