Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt, Volum 1Joseph Knight Company, 1885 - 236 sider |
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Side 32
... towers the Prince's palace fair : There thou too , Vathek ! England's wealthiest son , Once formed thy Paradise , as not aware When wanton Wealth her mightiest deeds hath done , Meek Peace voluptuous lures was ever wont to shun . XXIII ...
... towers the Prince's palace fair : There thou too , Vathek ! England's wealthiest son , Once formed thy Paradise , as not aware When wanton Wealth her mightiest deeds hath done , Meek Peace voluptuous lures was ever wont to shun . XXIII ...
Side 45
... tower Beheld her smile in Danger's Gorgon face , Thin the closed ranks , and lead in Glory's fearful chase . LVI . Her lover sinks she sheds no ill - timed tear ; - Her chief is slain she fills his fatal post ; Her fellows flee - she ...
... tower Beheld her smile in Danger's Gorgon face , Thin the closed ranks , and lead in Glory's fearful chase . LVI . Her lover sinks she sheds no ill - timed tear ; - Her chief is slain she fills his fatal post ; Her fellows flee - she ...
Side 68
... tower , Dim with the mist of years , grey flits the shade of power ! III . Son of the morning , rise ! approach you here ! Come - but molest not yon defenceless urn : Look on this spot - a nation's sepulchre ! Abode of gods , whose ...
... tower , Dim with the mist of years , grey flits the shade of power ! III . Son of the morning , rise ! approach you here ! Come - but molest not yon defenceless urn : Look on this spot - a nation's sepulchre ! Abode of gods , whose ...
Side 69
... Wit , And Passion's host , that never brooked control : Can all saint , sage , or sophist ever writ , People this lonely tower , this tenement refit ? VII . Well didst thou speak , Athena's wisest son. CANTO II . 69 PILGRIMAGE . ...
... Wit , And Passion's host , that never brooked control : Can all saint , sage , or sophist ever writ , People this lonely tower , this tenement refit ? VII . Well didst thou speak , Athena's wisest son. CANTO II . 69 PILGRIMAGE . ...
Side 87
... towers pollute the lovely view ; Unseen is Yanina , though not remote , Veiled by the screen of hills : here men are few , Scanty the hamlet , rare the lonely cot ; But , peering down each precipice , the goat Browseth ; and , pensive o ...
... towers pollute the lovely view ; Unseen is Yanina , though not remote , Veiled by the screen of hills : here men are few , Scanty the hamlet , rare the lonely cot ; But , peering down each precipice , the goat Browseth ; and , pensive o ...
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Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt : and Other Poems George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Uten tilgangsbegrensning - 1812 |
Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
Acheron adieu art thou Athens aught beauties behold beneath blazon bleed blood blue blush boast bosom breast brow BULL FIGHT castled crag cheer Childe Harold clime crags dare dark dear deeds deemed didst dome doom doth Drachenfels dread dream dwell e'er earth earth art fair Cadiz fame fate foam gainst gale Gaul gaze Giaour glaive glorious glow Greece hand hath heart heaven hope hour land lone Look lurk lyre maid minarets mingling mortal mountain mourn native ne'er NEWSTEAD ABBEY o'er thy once passed perchance Pindus place of skulls plain pride proud Rhine rock scarce scene Seville shore shrine sigh sink skies slave smile song sooth sorrow soul Spain Stamboul steed stern stream sweet tear thee thine eye thought throng tower unmoved vainly walls wanderer waves weary ween Whate'er wild wind young youth
Populære avsnitt
Side 121 - Cameron's gathering' rose! The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes: How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers With the fierce native daring which instils The stirring memory of a thousand years, And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears!
Side 122 - 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 Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valor, rolling on the foe And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low.
Side 120 - Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
Side 29 - Lo ! Cintra's glorious Eden intervenes In variegated maze of mount and glen. Ah, me ! what hand can pencil guide, or pen, To follow half on which the eye dilates...
Side 66 - Look on this spot — a nation's sepulchre ! Abode of gods, whose shrines no longer burn. Even gods must yield — religions take their turn : 'Twas Jove's — 'tis Mahomet's — and other creeds Will rise with other years, till man shall learn Vainly his incense soars, his victim bleeds ; Poor child of Doubt and Death, whose hope is built on reeds.
Side 130 - There Harold gazes on a work divine, A blending of all beauties; streams and dells, Fruit, foliage, crag, wood, corn-field, mountain, vine, And chiefless castles breathing stern farewells From gray but leafy walls, where Ruin greenly dwells.
Side 110 - Again I seize the theme then but begun, And bear it with me, as the rushing wind Bears the cloud onwards : in that Tale I find The furrows of long thought, and dried-up tears, Which, ebbing, leave a sterile track behind, O'er which all heavily the journeying years Plod the last sands of life, — where not a flower appears.
Side 119 - But hark! — that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! Arm! it is — it is — the cannon's opening roar! Within a window'd niche of that high hall Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain...
Side 129 - He who ascends to mountain-tops shall find The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow ; He who surpasses or subdues mankind Must look down on the hate of those below.
Side 24 - A few short hours, and he will rise To give the morrow birth; And I shall hail the main and skies, But not my mother earth. Deserted is my own good hall, Its hearth is desolate; Wild weeds are gathering on the wall, My dog howls at the gate. »Come hither, hither, my little page: Why dost thou weep and wail? Or dost thou dread the billows' rage, Or tremble at the gale?