Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt |
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Side 43
Such the ungentle sport that oft invites The Spanish maid , and cheers the
Spanish swain . Nurtured in blood betimes , his heart delights In vengeance ,
gloating on another's pain . What private feuds the troubled village stain ! Though
now one ...
Such the ungentle sport that oft invites The Spanish maid , and cheers the
Spanish swain . Nurtured in blood betimes , his heart delights In vengeance ,
gloating on another's pain . What private feuds the troubled village stain ! Though
now one ...
Side 47
When all were changing thou alone wert true , First to be free and last to be
subdued : And if amidst a scene , a shock so rude , Some native blood was seen
thy streets to dye ; A traitor only fell beneath the feud : Here all were noble , save
...
When all were changing thou alone wert true , First to be free and last to be
subdued : And if amidst a scene , a shock so rude , Some native blood was seen
thy streets to dye ; A traitor only fell beneath the feud : Here all were noble , save
...
Side 48
Not all the blood at Talavera shod , Not all the marvels of Barossa's fight , Not
Albuera lavish of the dead , Have won for Spain her well asserted right . When
shall her Olive - Branch be free from blight ? When shall she breathe her from the
...
Not all the blood at Talavera shod , Not all the marvels of Barossa's fight , Not
Albuera lavish of the dead , Have won for Spain her well asserted right . When
shall her Olive - Branch be free from blight ? When shall she breathe her from the
...
Side 74
... crimes that scorn the tender voice of ruth , Beseeming all men ill , but most the
man In years , have mark'd him with a tiger's tooth ; Blood follows blood , and ,
through their mortal span , In bloodier acts conclude those who with blood began
.
... crimes that scorn the tender voice of ruth , Beseeming all men ill , but most the
man In years , have mark'd him with a tiger's tooth ; Blood follows blood , and ,
through their mortal span , In bloodier acts conclude those who with blood began
.
Side 78
4 Macedonia sends forth her invincible race ; For a time they abandon the cave
and the chase : But those scarfs of blood - red shall be redder , before The sabre
is sheathed and the battle is o'er . 5 Then the pirates of Parga that dwell by the ...
4 Macedonia sends forth her invincible race ; For a time they abandon the cave
and the chase : But those scarfs of blood - red shall be redder , before The sabre
is sheathed and the battle is o'er . 5 Then the pirates of Parga that dwell by the ...
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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
amongst ancient appear arms Athens bear beauty behold beneath blood breast breath called CANTO changed Childe church dark death deep dust earth edit fair fall fame feel foes gaze give Greek hand Harold hath heard heart Heaven hills honour hope hour Italy known lake land late least leave less light live look Lord memory mind mortal mountains Nature never night o'er observed once pass perhaps plain poet 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 vain Venice voice walls waters waves whole winds wolf young
Populære avsnitt
Side 121 - 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 120 - 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 119 - 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 198 - 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 122 - 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 91 - 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 100 - 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 179 - 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 184 - 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 |