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. |
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Сторінка 40
... talking rendered it more than doubtful whether she had ever loved , or could love him , to the ex- tent that she supposed . I believe she would have taken great pride in the noble Bard , if he would have let her ; and remained a ...
... talking rendered it more than doubtful whether she had ever loved , or could love him , to the ex- tent that she supposed . I believe she would have taken great pride in the noble Bard , if he would have let her ; and remained a ...
Сторінка 41
... talk to wo- men , even when he was in his best humour with them . I do not mean on the side of voluptuous- ness , which is rather an excess than a coarse- ness ; the latter being an impertinence , which is the reverse of the former . I ...
... talk to wo- men , even when he was in his best humour with them . I do not mean on the side of voluptuous- ness , which is rather an excess than a coarse- ness ; the latter being an impertinence , which is the reverse of the former . I ...
Сторінка 47
... talking of them . The worst of it was , that when they did come in his way , they were nothing daunted . They had lived in a natural , not an artificial state of intercourse , and were equally sprightly , respectful , and self ...
... talking of them . The worst of it was , that when they did come in his way , they were nothing daunted . They had lived in a natural , not an artificial state of intercourse , and were equally sprightly , respectful , and self ...
Сторінка 62
... is an offence . When I agreed to go to Italy and join in setting up the proposed work , Shelley , who was fond of giving his friends appellations , happened to be talking one day with Lord Byron of the mysti- fication 62 LORD BYRON .
... is an offence . When I agreed to go to Italy and join in setting up the proposed work , Shelley , who was fond of giving his friends appellations , happened to be talking one day with Lord Byron of the mysti- fication 62 LORD BYRON .
Сторінка 63
... talking one day with Lord Byron of the mysti- fication which the name of " Leigh Hunt " would cause the Italians ; and passing from one fancy to another , he proposed that they should translate it into Leontius . Lord Byron ap- proved ...
... talking one day with Lord Byron of the mysti- fication which the name of " Leigh Hunt " would cause the Italians ; and passing from one fancy to another , he proposed that they should translate it into Leontius . Lord Byron ap- proved ...
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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
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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...