Lord Byron and Some of His Contemporaries: With Recollections of the Author's Life, and of His Visit to Italy, Том 1H. Colburn, 1828 - 494 стор. |
З цієї книги
Результати 1-5 із 69
Сторінка vi
... respect fit to appear ; but it has long ceased to be within my no- tions of what is necessary for society , to give an unpleasant account of any man ; and as to my own biography , I soon became tired of that . It is true , I should have ...
... respect fit to appear ; but it has long ceased to be within my no- tions of what is necessary for society , to give an unpleasant account of any man ; and as to my own biography , I soon became tired of that . It is true , I should have ...
Сторінка xxiv
... respect for a writer , to contend with him ; and I keep what I have to say on these matters , till the promised work appears from the pen of Mr. Moore . Meanwhile , however , in order to answer a question put to me in the Quar- terly ...
... respect for a writer , to contend with him ; and I keep what I have to say on these matters , till the promised work appears from the pen of Mr. Moore . Meanwhile , however , in order to answer a question put to me in the Quar- terly ...
Сторінка 2
... respect for his rank than I was wil- ling to suppose , my sympathy was not an agreeable one ; so , contenting myself with see- ing his Lordship's head bob up and down in the water , like a buoy , I came away . Lord Byron was afterwards ...
... respect for his rank than I was wil- ling to suppose , my sympathy was not an agreeable one ; so , contenting myself with see- ing his Lordship's head bob up and down in the water , like a buoy , I came away . Lord Byron was afterwards ...
Сторінка 25
... respecting another and greater matter . Two hundred pounds were sent me from Italy , to enable me to leave England with comfort . They came from Lord Byron , and nothing was said to me of security , or LORD BYRON . 25.
... respecting another and greater matter . Two hundred pounds were sent me from Italy , to enable me to leave England with comfort . They came from Lord Byron , and nothing was said to me of security , or LORD BYRON . 25.
Сторінка 33
... respect towards others , in any degree worth speaking of , nor even ( with shame I say it ) just to my own children ( though I trust to outlive that culpability ) , yet I have never refused to share my last sixpence ( no idle phrase in ...
... respect towards others , in any degree worth speaking of , nor even ( with shame I say it ) just to my own children ( though I trust to outlive that culpability ) , yet I have never refused to share my last sixpence ( no idle phrase in ...
Інші видання - Показати все
Загальні терміни та фрази
acquaintance admired afterwards Albaro appeared Bard Baubo Bay of Spezia beauty believe body called Captain compliment confess connexion contradiction critics DEAR HUNT delight Don Juan doubt England English eyes fancy Faust feel genius Genoa gentleman give Goethe good-humoured handsome Hazlitt heart honour hope Italian Italy Keats kind knew lady Lady Byron laugh least Leghorn Leigh Hunt Lerici less letters Liberal lived look Lord Byron Lord Holland Lordship Madame Guiccioli manner matter mean Medwin Meph mistake Moore moral nature never noble occasion opinion Parisina passage passion perhaps person Pisa pleasure poem poet poetical poetry pretended reader reason respect Rimini seemed sense Shelley Shelley's sincerity sort speak spirit spleen talk tell thing thou thought tion told took truth Via Reggio wish word write written young
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 429 - While he from forth the closet brought a heap Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd ; With jellies soother than the creamy curd, And lucent syrups, tinct with cinnamon ; Manna and dates, in argosy transferr'd From Fez ; and spiced dainties, every one, From silken Samarcand to cedar'd Lebanon.
Сторінка 434 - Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare...
Сторінка 437 - Darkling I listen; and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth -thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! • Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod.
Сторінка 435 - Ode to a Nightingale MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thy happiness, — That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
Сторінка 436 - O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim...
Сторінка 436 - Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays...
Сторінка 437 - As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf. Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: — Do I wake or sleep?
Сторінка 411 - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: — Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific — and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise — Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
Сторінка 340 - The cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place.
Сторінка 437 - Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket...