The Works of Lord Byron: Childe Harold's pilgrimageJohn Murray, 1821 |
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Side 3
... young blue eyes they smiled , And then we parted , -not as now we part , But with a hope.— Awaking with a start , The waters heave around me ; and on high The winds lift up their voices : I depart , Whither I know not ; but the hour's ...
... young blue eyes they smiled , And then we parted , -not as now we part , But with a hope.— Awaking with a start , The waters heave around me ; and on high The winds lift up their voices : I depart , Whither I know not ; but the hour's ...
Side 4
... , Which , ebbing , leave a steril track behind , O'er which all heavily the journeying years 1 Plod the last sands of life , -where not a flower appears , IV . Since my young days of passion - joy 4 CANTO III . CHILDE HAROLD'S.
... , Which , ebbing , leave a steril track behind , O'er which all heavily the journeying years 1 Plod the last sands of life , -where not a flower appears , IV . Since my young days of passion - joy 4 CANTO III . CHILDE HAROLD'S.
Side 5
George Gordon Byron Baron Byron. IV . Since my young days of passion - joy , or pain , Perchance my heart and harp have lost a string , And both may jar : it may be , that in vain I would essay as I have sung to sing . Yet , though a ...
George Gordon Byron Baron Byron. IV . Since my young days of passion - joy , or pain , Perchance my heart and harp have lost a string , And both may jar : it may be , that in vain I would essay as I have sung to sing . Yet , though a ...
Side 15
... young hearts , and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated ; who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes , Since upon nights so sweet such awful morn could rise ? XXV . And there was mounting in hot haste : the steed ...
... young hearts , and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated ; who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes , Since upon nights so sweet such awful morn could rise ? XXV . And there was mounting in hot haste : the steed ...
Side 17
... d files along , Even where the thickest of war's tempest lower'd , They reach'd no nobler breast than thine , young , gallant Howard ! VOL . II . C XXX . There have been tears and breaking hearts for CANTO III . 17 PILGRIMAGE . T.
... d files along , Even where the thickest of war's tempest lower'd , They reach'd no nobler breast than thine , young , gallant Howard ! VOL . II . C XXX . There have been tears and breaking hearts for CANTO III . 17 PILGRIMAGE . T.
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The Works of Lord Byron: Childe Harold's pilgrimage George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Uten tilgangsbegrensning - 1821 |
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amidst amongst ancient Ariosto beauty beneath blood Boccaccio breast breath brow Cæsar called Canto Certaldo Childe Harold Childe Harold's Pilgrimage Chioza church Cicero Classical Tour clouds Comitium dead death Decameron deep divine Doge dust earth edit Egeria Emperor empire eyes fall fame feeling Ficus Ruminalis Flaminius Florence Florentine foes gaze Genoese glory gondoliers hath heart heaven hills Hist honour hyæna immortal inscription Italian Italy Julius Cæsar lake light live Livy memory mind mortal mountains Muses Nardini nymph o'er Padua pass passion Petrarch poet quæ Roman Rome round ruin scene seems seen shore soul spirit spot stand Stanza star statue Storia delle arti Suetonius Tasso tears temple temple of Romulus thee thine things thou thought throne tomb tree triumphs valley Venetians Venice voice walls waves wind Winkelmann woes wolf words writer καὶ
Populære avsnitt
Side 91 - I STOOD in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, A palace and a prison on each hand ; I saw from out the wave her structures rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand : A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles, Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles...
Side 20 - 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...
Side 92 - She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean, Rising with her tiara of proud towers At airy distance, with majestic motion, A ruler of the waters and their powers : And such she was ; — her daughters had their dowers From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East Pour'd in her lap all gems in sparkling showers. In purple was she robed, and of her feast Monarchs partook, and deem'd their dignity increased.
Side 132 - Alas ! the lofty city ! and alas ! The trebly hundred triumphs ! and the day When Brutus made the dagger's edge surpass The conqueror's sword in bearing fame away ! Alas, for Tully's voice, and Virgil's lay, And Livy's pictured page ! — but these shall be Her resurrection; all beside — decay. Alas, for Earth, for never shall we see That brightness in her eye she bore when Rome was free!
Side 127 - Horribly beautiful ! but on the verge, From side to side, beneath the glittering morn, An Iris sits, amidst the infernal surge, Like Hope upon a death-bed, and, unworn Its steady dyes, while all around is torn By the distracted waters, bears serene Its brilliant hues with all their beams unshorn : Resembling, 'mid the torture of the scene, Love watching Madness with unalterable mien.
Side 104 - The moon is up, and yet it is not night — Sunset divides the sky with her — a sea Of glory streams along the Alpine height Of blue Friuli's mountains ; heaven is free From clouds, but of all colours seems to be Melted to one vast Iris of the West, Where the day joins the past Eternity; While, on the other hand, meek Dian's crest Floats through the azure air — an island of the blest...
Side 96 - Meantime I seek no sympathies, nor need ; The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted, — they have torn me — and I bleed : I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.
Side 56 - Now, where the quick Rhone thus hath cleft his way, The mightiest of the storms hath ta'en his stand : For here, not one, but many make their play, And fling their thunder-bolts from hand to hand, Flashing and cast around : of all the band, The brightest through these parted hills hath fork'd His lightnings, — as if he did understand, That in such gaps as desolation work'd, There the hot shaft should blast whatever therein lurk'd.
Side 112 - God ! that thou wert in thy nakedness Less lovely or more powerful, and couldst claim Thy right, and awe the robbers back, who press To shed thy blood, and drink the tears of thy distress...
Side 44 - Or the pure bosom of its nursing lake, Which feeds it as a mother who doth make A fair but froward infant her own care, Kissing its cries away as these awake; — Is it not better thus our lives to wear, Than join the crushing crowd, doom'd to inflict or bear?