Childe Harold's pilgrimage, The giaour, The siege of Corinth [and other poems]. |
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Página 27
... tear . Now to my theme - but from thy holy haunt Let me some remnant , some memorial bear ; Yield me one leaf of Daphne's deathless plant , Nor let thy votary's hope be deem'd an idle vaunt . LXIV . But ne'er didst thou , fair mount ...
... tear . Now to my theme - but from thy holy haunt Let me some remnant , some memorial bear ; Yield me one leaf of Daphne's deathless plant , Nor let thy votary's hope be deem'd an idle vaunt . LXIV . But ne'er didst thou , fair mount ...
Página 34
... tear of pity for the dead ? Look o'er the ravage of the reeking plain ; Look on the hands with female slaughter red ; Then to the dogs resign the unburied slain , Then to the vulture let each corse remain ; Albeit unworthy of the prey ...
... tear of pity for the dead ? Look o'er the ravage of the reeking plain ; Look on the hands with female slaughter red ; Then to the dogs resign the unburied slain , Then to the vulture let each corse remain ; Albeit unworthy of the prey ...
Página 35
... tear Of consciousness awaking to her woes , And fancy hover o'er thy bloodless bier , Till my frail frame return to whence it rose , And mourn'd and mourner lie united in repose . XCIII . Here is one fytte of Harold's pilgrimage : He ...
... tear Of consciousness awaking to her woes , And fancy hover o'er thy bloodless bier , Till my frail frame return to whence it rose , And mourn'd and mourner lie united in repose . XCIII . Here is one fytte of Harold's pilgrimage : He ...
Página 42
... tears ? Though in thy name the slaves her bosom wrung , Tell not the deed to blushing Europe's ears ; The ocean queen , the free Britannia bears The last poor plunder from a bleeding land : Yes , she , whose generous aid her name ...
... tears ? Though in thy name the slaves her bosom wrung , Tell not the deed to blushing Europe's ears ; The ocean queen , the free Britannia bears The last poor plunder from a bleeding land : Yes , she , whose generous aid her name ...
Página 45
... tear ; A flashing pang ! of which the weary breast Would still , albeit in vain , the heavy heart divest . XXV . To sit on rocks , to muse o'er flood and fell , To slowly trace the forest's shady scene , Where things that own not man's ...
... tear ; A flashing pang ! of which the weary breast Would still , albeit in vain , the heavy heart divest . XXV . To sit on rocks , to muse o'er flood and fell , To slowly trace the forest's shady scene , Where things that own not man's ...
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Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, the Giaour, the Siege of Corinth [And Other Poems] George Gordon N Byron Sin vista previa disponible - 2016 |
Términos y frases comunes
Albanian Ali Pacha Athens beauty behold beneath blood Boccaccio bosom breast breath brow CANTO Childe Harold Christian Cicero dark dead death deep doom earth fair fame fate feel Ficus Ruminalis foes gaze Giaour glory gondoliers grave Greece Greek hand hath heard heart heaven hills honour hope hour Italian Italy Julius Cæsar land less light live maid mind mortal mountains ne'er never night Note o'er once Parisina pass pass'd Petrarch Pouqueville rock Romaic Roman Rome round scarce scene seem'd seen shine shore sigh smile song soul spirit Stanza steed stood sweet tears thee thine things thou thought tomb Venetians Venice voice walls wave wild wind young ἀπὸ δὲν διὰ εἶναι εἰς καὶ μὲ νὰ σᾶς τὰ τὴν τῆς τὸ τὸν τοῦ τοὺς τῶν
Pasajes populares
Página 470 - And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord ! A SPIRIT PASS'D BEFORE ME.
Página 469 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Página 119 - Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder! Not from one lone cloud, But every mountain now hath found a tongue, And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud!
Página 102 - 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 ! The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent The earth is covered thick with other clay, Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, Rider and horse — friend, foe, — in one red burial blent...
Página 153 - Rome ! my country ! city of the soul! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, Ye ! Whose agonies are evils of a day — A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe ; An empty urn within her...
Página 100 - As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! Arm! Arm! it is! — it is! — the cannon's opening roar!
Página 100 - Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
Página 225 - Appals the gazing mourner's heart, As if to him it could impart The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon ; Yes, but for these, and these alone, Some moments, ay, one treacherous hour, He still might doubt the tyrant's power ; So fair, so calm, so softly seal'd, The first, last look by death reveal'd...
Página 178 - Oh! that the Desert were my dwelling-place, With one fair Spirit for my minister, That I might all forget the human race, And, hating no one, love but only her ! Ye elements ! — in whose ennobling stir I feel myself exalted — can ye not Accord me such a being?
Página 106 - Though high above the sun of glory glow, And far beneath the earth and ocean spread, Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow Contending tempests on his naked head, And thus reward the toils which to those summits led.