Tales and poems |
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Resultados 1-5 de 41
Página 15
... blood that warm'd his heart is shed ! And here no more shall human voice Be heard to rage , regret , rejoice . The last sad note that swell'd the gale Was woman's wildest funeral wail : That quench'd in silence , all is still , - But ...
... blood that warm'd his heart is shed ! And here no more shall human voice Be heard to rage , regret , rejoice . The last sad note that swell'd the gale Was woman's wildest funeral wail : That quench'd in silence , all is still , - But ...
Página 22
... blood , When in the pass the rebels stood , And few return'd to tell the tale Of what befell in Parne's vale . The pistols which his girdle bore Were those that once a pasha wore , Which still , though gemm'd and boss'd with gold , Even ...
... blood , When in the pass the rebels stood , And few return'd to tell the tale Of what befell in Parne's vale . The pistols which his girdle bore Were those that once a pasha wore , Which still , though gemm'd and boss'd with gold , Even ...
Página 27
... blood he spilt ; Yet strain'd within the sever'd hand Which quivers round that faithless brand ; His turban far behind him roll'd , And cleft in twain its firmest fold ; His flowing robe by falchion torn , And crimson as those clouds of ...
... blood he spilt ; Yet strain'd within the sever'd hand Which quivers round that faithless brand ; His turban far behind him roll'd , And cleft in twain its firmest fold ; His flowing robe by falchion torn , And crimson as those clouds of ...
Página 30
... blood is spilt : Woe to the Giaour ! for his the guilt . " A turban ( 32 ) carved in coarsest stone , A pillar with rank weeds o'ergrown , Whereon can now be scarcely read The Koran verse that mourns the dead , Point out the spot where ...
... blood is spilt : Woe to the Giaour ! for his the guilt . " A turban ( 32 ) carved in coarsest stone , A pillar with rank weeds o'ergrown , Whereon can now be scarcely read The Koran verse that mourns the dead , Point out the spot where ...
Página 31
... blood of all thy race ; There from thy daughter , sister , wife , At midnight drain the stream of life ; Yet loathe the banquet which perforce Must feed thy livid living corse : Thy victims ere they yet expire Shall know the demon for ...
... blood of all thy race ; There from thy daughter , sister , wife , At midnight drain the stream of life ; Yet loathe the banquet which perforce Must feed thy livid living corse : Thy victims ere they yet expire Shall know the demon for ...
Términos y frases comunes
Amaun arms band beauty beneath blood Bonnivard bosom bread and salt breast breath brow calpac chain cheek cloud Conrad Corinth dare dark dead death deed deep doom dread earth fair faithless fate fear feel fell fetter'd fire fix'd foes gaze Giaffir Giaour glance grave Greece grief Gulnare hand Haram Hassan hate hath head heard heart heaven Hellespont hope horsetails hour Houris isle Koran light line 12 lips living lonely look'd maid Morea Moslem Mussulman ne'er never night NOTE numbers o'er Pacha pale pass'd pride rest rose round sabre scarce seem'd seen Selim Seyd she-the shine shore silent slave smile soothe soul sound spirit stamp'd steed stern stood strife tale tears tell thee thine thou thought tide Timariot turban Turkish turn'd Twas voice wall wave wild wind words wound Zuleika
Pasajes populares
Página 276 - Less wretched now, and one day free ; He, too, who yet had held untired A spirit natural or inspired — He, too, was struck, and day by day Was withered on the stalk away. Oh, God ! it is a fearful thing To see the human soul take wing In any shape, in any mood...
Página 283 - It might be months, or years, or days, I kept no count — I took no note, I had no hope my eyes to raise And clear them of their dreary mote...
Página 277 - Between me and the eternal brink, Which bound me to my failing race, Was broken in this fatal place.
Página 13 - Twas but a moment that he stood, Then sped as if by death pursued : But in that instant o'er his soul Winters of Memory seem'd to roll, And gather in that drop of time A life of pain, an age of crime.
Página 67 - KNOW ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime ? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime...
Página 275 - His corse in dust whereon the day Might shine — it was a foolish thought, But then within my brain it wrought, That even in death his freeborn breast In such a dungeon could not rest. I might have spared my idle prayer — They coldly laugh'd, and laid him there: The flat and turfless earth above The being we so much did love; His empty chain above it leant...
Página 31 - But first, on earth as Vampire sent, Thy corse shall from its tomb be rent ; Then ghastly haunt thy native place, And suck the blood of all thy race, There from thy daughter, sister, wife, At midnight drain the stream of life ; • Yet loathe the banquet which perforce Must feed thy livid living corse ; Thy victims ere they yet expire , Shall know the dsemon for their sire, As cursing thee, thou cursing them, Thy flowers are wither'd on the stem.
Página 281 - With links unfasten'd did remain, And it was liberty to Stride Along my cell from side to side, And up and down, and then athwart, And tread it over every part; And round the pillars one by one, Returning where my walk begun, Avoiding only, as I trod, My brothers...
Página 143 - There breathe but few whose aspect might defy The full encounter of his searching eye: He had the skill, when Cunning's gaze would seek To probe his heart and watch his changing cheek, At once the observer's purpose to espy, And on himself roll back his scrutiny, Lest he to Conrad rather should betray Some secret thought, than drag that chiefs to day.
Página 8 - Bequeathed by bleeding Sire to Son, Though baffled oft is ever won. Bear witness, Greece, thy living page, Attest it many a deathless age ! While kings, in dusty darkness hid, Have left a nameless pyramid, Thy heroes, though the general doom Hath swept the column from their tomb, A mightier monument command, The mountains of their native land ! There points thy Muse to stranger's eye The graves of those that cannot die...