Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt |
Inni boken
Resultat 1-5 av 15
Side 25
How will posterity the deed proclaim Will not our own and fellow-nations sneer,
To view these champions cheated of their fame, By foes in fight o'erthrown, yet
victors here, Where Scorn her finger points through many a coming year? XXVII.
How will posterity the deed proclaim Will not our own and fellow-nations sneer,
To view these champions cheated of their fame, By foes in fight o'erthrown, yet
victors here, Where Scorn her finger points through many a coming year? XXVII.
Side 26
... Now must the pastor's arm his lambs defend: For Spain is compass'd by
unyielding foes, And all must shield their all, or share Subjection's woes. XXXII.
Where Lusitania and her sister meet, Deem ye what 26 CHILDE HAR OLD'S
canto L.
... Now must the pastor's arm his lambs defend: For Spain is compass'd by
unyielding foes, And all must shield their all, or share Subjection's woes. XXXII.
Where Lusitania and her sister meet, Deem ye what 26 CHILDE HAR OLD'S
canto L.
Side 30
The foe, the victim, and the fond ally That fights for all, but ever fights in vain, Are
met—as if at home they could not dic— To ... prick'd his steed, Who could foresce
thee, in a space so brief, A scene where mingling foes should boast and bleed!
The foe, the victim, and the fond ally That fights for all, but ever fights in vain, Are
met—as if at home they could not dic— To ... prick'd his steed, Who could foresce
thee, in a space so brief, A scene where mingling foes should boast and bleed!
Side 42
Foil'd, bleeding, breathless, furious to the last, Full in the centre stands the bull at
bay, Mid wounds, and clinging darts, and lances brast, And foes disabled in the
brutal fray: And now the Matadores around him play, Shake the red cloak, and ...
Foil'd, bleeding, breathless, furious to the last, Full in the centre stands the bull at
bay, Mid wounds, and clinging darts, and lances brast, And foes disabled in the
brutal fray: And now the Matadores around him play, Shake the red cloak, and ...
Side 47
... read whate'er is writ of bloodiest strife: Whate'er keen Vengeance urged on
foreign foe Can act, is acting there against ... and the wife, So may he make each
curst oppressor bleed— So may such foes deserve the most remorseless deed!
... read whate'er is writ of bloodiest strife: Whate'er keen Vengeance urged on
foreign foe Can act, is acting there against ... and the wife, So may he make each
curst oppressor bleed— So may such foes deserve the most remorseless deed!
Hva folk mener - Skriv en omtale
Vi har ikke funnet noen omtaler på noen av de vanlige stedene.
Andre utgaver - Vis alle
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt, Volum 1 George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Uten tilgangsbegrensning - 1885 |
Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
amongst ancient appear arms Athens bear beauty beneath better blood breast breath called Childe church dark dead death deep dust earth edit fair fall fame feel foes gaze glory Greek hand Harold hath heard heart Heaven hills honour hope hour Italian Italy lake land late least leave less light live look Lord memory mind mortal mountains Nature never o'er observed once pass perhaps plain present rise rock Roman Rome round scene seems seen shore song soul spirit stands STANZA statue stream tears temple thee thine things thou thought thousand tomb traveller tree true turn Venice walls waters waves whole winds wolf young youth
Populære avsnitt
Side 119 - And this is in the night. — Most glorious night ! Thou wert not sent for slumber ! let me be A sharer in thy fierce and far delight, — A portion of the tempest and of thee ! How the lit lake shines a phosphoric sea, And the big rain comes dancing to the earth ! And now again 'tis black, — and now the glee Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain-mirth, As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth.
Side 118 - All heaven and earth are still— though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most; And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep...
Side 118 - Ye stars ! which are the poetry of heaven ! If in your bright leaves we would read the fate Of men and empires, — 'tis to be forgiven, That in our aspirations to be great, Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, And claim a kindred with you ; for ye are A beauty and a mystery, and create In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star.
Side 196 - Ye Elements ! — in whose ennobling stir I feel myself exalted — Can ye not Accord me such a being? Do I err In deeming such inhabit many a spot ? Though with them to converse can rarely be our lot.
Side 120 - Could I embody and unbosom now That which is most within me, — could I wreak My thoughts upon expression, and thus throw Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings, strong or weak, All that I would have sought, and all I seek, Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe— into one word, And that one word were Lightning, I would speak ; But as it is, I live and die unheard, With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword.
Side 89 - Welcome to their roar! Swift be their guidance, wheresoe'er it lead !' Though the strain'd mast should quiver as a reed, And the rent canvas fluttering strew the gale, Still must I on : for I am as a weed, Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail.
Side 98 - Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms, — the day Battle's magnificently stern array! The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent The earth is covered thick with other clay, Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, Rider and horse, — friend, foe, — in one red burial blent!
Side 178 - Of its own beauty is the mind diseased, And fevers into false creation : — where, Where are the forms the sculptor's soul hath seized ? In him alone. Can Nature show so fair...
Side 162 - The roar of waters ! — from the headlong height Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice ; The fall of waters ! rapid as the light The flashing mass foams shaking the abyss; The hell of waters ! where they howl and hiss, And boil in endless torture ; while the sweat Of their great agony, wrung out from this Their Phlegethon, curls round the rocks of jet That gird the gulf around, in pitiless horror set, LXX.
Side 182 - But I have lived, and have not lived in vain ; My mind may lose its force, my blood its fire; And my frame perish even in conquering pain, But there is that within me which shall tire Torture and Time, and breathe when I expire...
Bibliografisk informasjon
| Tittel | Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt |
| Forfatter | George Gordon Byron Baron Byron |
| Utgiver | G.S. Appleton, 1851 |
| Original fra | New York Public Library |
| Digitalisert | 22. nov 2006 |
| Lengde | 287 sider |
| Eksporter sitat | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |