Lord Byron's Works ...F. Louis, 1821 |
З цієї книги
Результати 1-5 із 38
Сторінка 9
... knew , nor haply cared to know ; For his was not that open , artless soul That feels relief by bidding sorrow flow , Nor sought he friend to counsel or condole , Whate'er this grief mote be which he could not control . IX . And none did ...
... knew , nor haply cared to know ; For his was not that open , artless soul That feels relief by bidding sorrow flow , Nor sought he friend to counsel or condole , Whate'er this grief mote be which he could not control . IX . And none did ...
Сторінка 10
... knew them flatt'rers of the festal hour ; The heartless parasites of present cheer . Yea ! none did love him - not his lemans dear- Fut pomp and power alone are woman's care , And where these are light Eros finds a feere ; Maidens ...
... knew them flatt'rers of the festal hour ; The heartless parasites of present cheer . Yea ! none did love him - not his lemans dear- Fut pomp and power alone are woman's care , And where these are light Eros finds a feere ; Maidens ...
Сторінка 47
... knew , till then , the weight of Despot's chains . XIII . What ! shall it e'er be said by British tongue , Albion was happy in Athena's tears ? Though in thy name the slaves her bosom wrung , Tell not the deed to blushing Europe's ears ...
... knew , till then , the weight of Despot's chains . XIII . What ! shall it e'er be said by British tongue , Albion was happy in Athena's tears ? Though in thy name the slaves her bosom wrung , Tell not the deed to blushing Europe's ears ...
Сторінка 53
... knew his votary often lost and caught , But knew him as his worshipper no more , And ne'er again the boy his bosom sought : Since now he vainly urged him to adore , Well deemed the little God his ancient sway was o'er . XXXII . Fair ...
... knew his votary often lost and caught , But knew him as his worshipper no more , And ne'er again the boy his bosom sought : Since now he vainly urged him to adore , Well deemed the little God his ancient sway was o'er . XXXII . Fair ...
Сторінка 54
George Gordon Byron Baron Byron. XXXIII . Little knew she that seeming marble - heart , Now masked in silence or withheld by pride , Was not unskilful in the spoiler's art , And spread its snares licentious far and wide ; Nor from the ...
George Gordon Byron Baron Byron. XXXIII . Little knew she that seeming marble - heart , Now masked in silence or withheld by pride , Was not unskilful in the spoiler's art , And spread its snares licentious far and wide ; Nor from the ...
Загальні терміни та фрази
ABBOT OF SAINT Albania Alhama art thou ASTARTE beauty behold beneath blood Bonnivard bosom breast breath brow Cavalier Servente CHAMOIS HUNTER charm Childe Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE clouds cold courser dare dark dead death deemed deep dost doth dread dream dust dwell earth eyes fair fame fear feel gaze Giaour glory glow grave Greece hand hast hath heart heaven hope hour hues Idlesse immortal land light limbs live lone look MANFRED Mazeppa mighty mind mingling mortal mountains ne'er never night nought o'er once pang pass Pindus rock round SAINT MAURICE scarce scene shine shore SIEGE OF CORINTH sigh silent skies smile song soul spirit star steed stood sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought thousand throne tomb twas Venice voice walls wandering waves wild wind youth
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 179 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more...
Сторінка 225 - Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed...
Сторінка 218 - Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain.
Сторінка 120 - 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...
Сторінка 167 - Were with his heart, and that was far away; He reck'd not of the life he lost nor prize, But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother— he, their sire, Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday— All this rush'd with his blood— Shall he expire And unavenged? Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire!
Сторінка 181 - Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime — The image of Eternity — the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless...
Сторінка 88 - 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!
Сторінка 105 - When elements to elements conform. And dust is as it should be, shall I not Feel all I see, less dazzling, but more warm ? The bodiless thought?
Сторінка 128 - Thou art the garden of the world, the home Of all Art yields, and Nature can decree ; Even in thy desert, what is like to thee ? Thy very weeds are beautiful, thy waste More rich than other climes' fertility ; Thy wreck a glory, and thy ruin graced With an immaculate charm which cannot be defaced.
Сторінка 99 - twere anew, the gaps of centuries ; Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not, till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old, — The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns.