Childe Harold's Pilgrimage,: A Romaunt: and Other Poems |
Dentro del libro
Página 67
Bound to the earth , he lifts his eye to heaven Is ' t not enough , unhappy thing ! to
know Thou art ? Is this a boon so kindly given , That being , thou wouldst be
again , and go , Thou know ' st not , reck ' st not to what region , so On earth no
more ...
Bound to the earth , he lifts his eye to heaven Is ' t not enough , unhappy thing ! to
know Thou art ? Is this a boon so kindly given , That being , thou wouldst be
again , and go , Thou know ' st not , reck ' st not to what region , so On earth no
more ...
Página 226
How different now thou meet ' st my gaze ! How ting ' d by time with sorrow ' s hue
! The heart that gave itself with thee Is silent — ah , were mine as still ! Though
cold as e ' en the dead can be , It feels , it sickens with the chill . 7 . Thou bitter ...
How different now thou meet ' st my gaze ! How ting ' d by time with sorrow ' s hue
! The heart that gave itself with thee Is silent — ah , were mine as still ! Though
cold as e ' en the dead can be , It feels , it sickens with the chill . 7 . Thou bitter ...
Página 230
Count o ' er the joys thine hours have seen , Count o ' er thy days from anguish
free , And know , whatever thou hast been , ' Tis something better not to be . XVI .
STANZAS . “ Heu quanto minus est cum reliquis versari quam tui meminisse ! ” 1 .
Count o ' er the joys thine hours have seen , Count o ' er thy days from anguish
free , And know , whatever thou hast been , ' Tis something better not to be . XVI .
STANZAS . “ Heu quanto minus est cum reliquis versari quam tui meminisse ! ” 1 .
Página 254
1 AS And art thou chang ' d , and canst thou hate se Å 8 . Mine eyes like wintry
streams o ' erflow : What wretch with me could barter woe ? My bird ! relent : one
note would give : A charm , to bid thy lover live . 9 . My curdling blood , my madd ...
1 AS And art thou chang ' d , and canst thou hate se Å 8 . Mine eyes like wintry
streams o ' erflow : What wretch with me could barter woe ? My bird ! relent : one
note would give : A charm , to bid thy lover live . 9 . My curdling blood , my madd ...
Página 255
Thou art not false , but thou art fickle , To those thyself so fondly sought ; The
tears that thou hast forc ' d to trickle Are doubly bitter from that thought : ' Tis this
which breaks the heart thou grievest , Too well thou lov ' st — too soon thou
leavest .
Thou art not false , but thou art fickle , To those thyself so fondly sought ; The
tears that thou hast forc ' d to trickle Are doubly bitter from that thought : ' Tis this
which breaks the heart thou grievest , Too well thou lov ' st — too soon thou
leavest .
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Términos y frases comunes
amongst ancient appear Athens bear beautiful behold beneath better blood bosom breast charms chief Childe dark dear doubts dread dream earth fair fall feel French gaze give Greece Greeks hand Harold hast hath hear heard heart honour hope hour Hymettus land late less live lonely look Lord lost maid mountains native never night o'er observation once pass past plain present remains rest rise rock Romaic scarce scene seen shore sigh slave smile song sons soon soul speak Stanza sweet tear tell thee thine thing thou thou art thought translation traveller true Turkish Turks walls wave wild written young youth δεν εις και με να τας την το
Pasajes populares
Página 17 - And now I'm in the world alone, Upon the wide, wide sea : But why should I for others groan, When none will sigh for me ? Perchance my dog will whine in vain, Till fed by stranger hands ; But long ere I come back again He'd tear me where he stands.
Página 113 - tis haunted, holy ground, No earth of thine is lost in vulgar mould, But one vast realm of wonder spreads around, And all the Muse's tales seem truly told, Till the sense aches with gazing to behold The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt upon: Each hill and dale, each deepening glen and wold Defies the power which crush'd thy temples gone: Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray Marathon.
Página 112 - Yet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild; Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields, Thine olive ripe as when Minerva smiled, And still his...
Página 245 - My heart in all, — save hope, — the same. Yet was I calm : I knew the time My breast would thrill before thy look ; But now to tremble were a crime — We met, — and not a nerve was shook. I saw thee gaze upon my face, Yet meet with no confusion there : One only feeling couldst thou trace ; The sullen calmness of despair. Away ! away ! my early dream Remembrance never must awake : Oh ! where is Lethe's fabled stream ? My foolish heart be still, or break.
Página 107 - Hereditary bondsmen ! know ye not Who would be free themselves must strike the blow ? By their right arms the conquest must be wrought?
Página 232 - Who didst not change through all the past, And canst not alter now. The love where Death has set his seal, Nor age can chill, nor rival steal, Nor falsehood disavow: And, what were worse, thou canst not see Or wrong, or change, or fault in me. The better days of life were ours; The worst can be but mine: The sun that cheers, the storm that lowers, Shall never more be thine. The silence of that dreamless sleep I envy now too much to weep; Nor need I to repine That all those charms have pass'd away,...
Página 129 - Insatiate archer ! could not one suffice ? Thy shaft flew thrice ; and thrice my peace was slain ; And thrice, ere thrice yon moon had fill'd her horn.
Página 55 - It is that weariness which springs From all I meet, or hear, or see : To me no pleasure Beauty brings ; Thine eyes have scarce a charm for me. 5. It is that settled, ceaseless gloom The fabled Hebrew wanderer bore : That will not look beyond the tomb, But cannot hope for rest before.
Página 118 - What is the worst of woes that wait on age? What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow? To view each loved one blotted from life's page, And be alone on earth, as I am now.
Página 68 - Look on its broken arch, its ruined wall, Its chambers desolate, and portals foul : Yes, this was once Ambition's airy hall, The Dome of Thought, the Palace of the Soul...
Información bibliográfica
| Título | Childe Harold's Pilgrimage,: A Romaunt: and Other Poems |
| Autor | George Gordon Byron Baron Byron |
| Edición | 8 |
| Editor | Thomas Davison, 1814 |
| Procedencia del original | Universidad de Oxford |
| Digitalizado | 24 Sep. 2007 |
| Largo | 304 páginas |
| Exportar cita | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |