Lord Byron's Works ...F. Louis, 1821 |
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Сторінка 34
... bear away , And all that kings or chiefs e'er gain their toils repay . LXXIV . In costly sheen and gaudy cloak arrayed , But all afoot , the light - limbed matadore Stands in the centre , eager to invade The lord of lowing herds ; but ...
... bear away , And all that kings or chiefs e'er gain their toils repay . LXXIV . In costly sheen and gaudy cloak arrayed , But all afoot , the light - limbed matadore Stands in the centre , eager to invade The lord of lowing herds ; but ...
Сторінка 35
... , His gory chest unveils life's panting source , Though death - struck still his feeble frame he rears , Staggering , but stemming all , his lord unharmed he bears . LXXVIII . Foiled , bleeding , breathless , furious to CANTO I. 35.
... , His gory chest unveils life's panting source , Though death - struck still his feeble frame he rears , Staggering , but stemming all , his lord unharmed he bears . LXXVIII . Foiled , bleeding , breathless , furious to CANTO I. 35.
Сторінка 38
... bear , corroding joy and youth ? And wilt thou vainly seek to know A pang , ev'n thou must fail to soothe ? 3 . It is not love , it is not hate , Nor low ambition's honours lost , That bids me loathe my present state And fly from all I ...
... bear , corroding joy and youth ? And wilt thou vainly seek to know A pang , ev'n thou must fail to soothe ? 3 . It is not love , it is not hate , Nor low ambition's honours lost , That bids me loathe my present state And fly from all I ...
Сторінка 46
... Thy free - born men should spare what once was free Yet they could violate each saddening shrine , And bear these altars o'er the long - reluctant brine . XH . But most the modern Pict's ignoble boast , 46 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE .
... Thy free - born men should spare what once was free Yet they could violate each saddening shrine , And bear these altars o'er the long - reluctant brine . XH . But most the modern Pict's ignoble boast , 46 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE .
Сторінка 47
... bears The last poor plunder from a bleeding land ; Yes , she , whose gen'rous aid her name endears , Tore down those remnants with a Harpy's hand , Which envious Eld forbore , and tyrants left to stand . XIV . Where was thine Egis ...
... bears The last poor plunder from a bleeding land ; Yes , she , whose gen'rous aid her name endears , Tore down those remnants with a Harpy's hand , Which envious Eld forbore , and tyrants left to stand . XIV . Where was thine Egis ...
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
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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.