The Works of Lord Byron: Childe Harold's pilgrimageJohn Murray, 1821 |
Vyhľadávanie v obsahu knihy
Výsledky 1 - 5 z 33.
Strana 16
... 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 valour ...
... 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 valour ...
Strana 20
... " Here , where the sword united nations drew , “ Our countrymen were warring on that day ! ” And this is much , and all which will not pass away . XXXVI . There sunk the greatest , nor the worst 20 CANTO II . CHILDE HAROLD'S.
... " Here , where the sword united nations drew , “ Our countrymen were warring on that day ! ” And this is much , and all which will not pass away . XXXVI . There sunk the greatest , nor the worst 20 CANTO II . CHILDE HAROLD'S.
Strana 26
... pass'd below ; But they who fought are in a bloody shroud , And those which waved are shredless dust ere now , And the bleak battlements shall bear no future blow . XLVIII . Beneath these battlements , within those walls , 26 CANTO III ...
... pass'd below ; But they who fought are in a bloody shroud , And those which waved are shredless dust ere now , And the bleak battlements shall bear no future blow . XLVIII . Beneath these battlements , within those walls , 26 CANTO III ...
Strana 28
... pass'd away , And Slaughter heap'd on high his weltering ranks ; Their very graves are gone , and what are they ? Thy tide wash'd down the blood of yesterday , And all was stainless , and on thy clear stream Glass'd with its dancing ...
... pass'd away , And Slaughter heap'd on high his weltering ranks ; Their very graves are gone , and what are they ? Thy tide wash'd down the blood of yesterday , And all was stainless , and on thy clear stream Glass'd with its dancing ...
Strana 29
George Gordon Byron Baron Byron. LII . Thus Harold inly said , and pass'd along , Yet not insensibly to all which here Awoke the jocund birds to early song In glens which might have made even exile dear : Though on his brow were graven ...
George Gordon Byron Baron Byron. LII . Thus Harold inly said , and pass'd along , Yet not insensibly to all which here Awoke the jocund birds to early song In glens which might have made even exile dear : Though on his brow were graven ...
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?