The Works of Lord Byron: Childe Harold's pilgrimageJohn Murray, 1821 |
Vyhľadávanie v obsahu knihy
Výsledky 1 - 5 z 24.
Strana 10
... human frailties , were forgotten quite : Could he have kept his spirit to that flight He had been happy ; but this clay will sink Its spark immortal , envying it the light To which it mounts , as if to break the link That keeps us from ...
... human frailties , were forgotten quite : Could he have kept his spirit to that flight He had been happy ; but this clay will sink Its spark immortal , envying it the light To which it mounts , as if to break the link That keeps us from ...
Strana 37
... it stands Making a marvel that it not decays , When the coeval pride of human hands , Levell❜d ( 15 ) Aventicum , hath strew'd her subject lands . LXVI . And there - oh ! sweet and sacred CANTO III . 37 PILGRIMAGE .
... it stands Making a marvel that it not decays , When the coeval pride of human hands , Levell❜d ( 15 ) Aventicum , hath strew'd her subject lands . LXVI . And there - oh ! sweet and sacred CANTO III . 37 PILGRIMAGE .
Strana 50
... human hands . Come , and compare Columns and idol - dwellings , Goth or Greek , With Nature's realms of worship , earth and air , Nor fix on fond abodes to circumscribe thy pray'r ! XCII . The sky is changed ! —and such a 50 CANTO III ...
... human hands . Come , and compare Columns and idol - dwellings , Goth or Greek , With Nature's realms of worship , earth and air , Nor fix on fond abodes to circumscribe thy pray'r ! XCII . The sky is changed ! —and such a 50 CANTO III ...
Strana 53
... human breast ? Or do ye find , at length , like eagles , some high nest ? XCVII . 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 ...
... human breast ? Or do ye find , at length , like eagles , some high nest ? XCVII . 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 ...
Strana 67
... human vanity than the active cruelty of more trembling and suspicious tyranny . Such were his speeches to public assemblies as well as individuals ; and the single expression which he is said to have used on returning to Paris after the ...
... human vanity than the active cruelty of more trembling and suspicious tyranny . Such were his speeches to public assemblies as well as individuals ; and the single expression which he is said to have used on returning to Paris after the ...
Iné vydania - Zobraziť všetky
The Works of Lord Byron: Childe Harold's pilgrimage George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Úplné zobrazenie - 1821 |
Časté výrazy a frázy
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
Populárne pasáže
Strana 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...
Strana 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...
Strana 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.
Strana 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!
Strana 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.
Strana 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...
Strana 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.
Strana 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.
Strana 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...
Strana 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?