The works of ... lord Byron, Volumen1 |
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Página 23
... wide : Fresh lessons to the thinking bosom , how Vain are the pleasaunces on earth supplied ; Swept into wrecks anon by Time's ungentle tide ! XXIV . Behold the hall where chiefs were late conven'd Canto I. 23 PILGRIMAGE . 23.
... wide : Fresh lessons to the thinking bosom , how Vain are the pleasaunces on earth supplied ; Swept into wrecks anon by Time's ungentle tide ! XXIV . Behold the hall where chiefs were late conven'd Canto I. 23 PILGRIMAGE . 23.
Página 24
George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) XXIV . Behold the hall where chiefs were late conven'd ! " Oh ! dome displeasing unto British eye ! With diadem hight foolscap , lo ! a fiend , A little fiend that scoffs incessantly , There sits in ...
George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) XXIV . Behold the hall where chiefs were late conven'd ! " Oh ! dome displeasing unto British eye ! With diadem hight foolscap , lo ! a fiend , A little fiend that scoffs incessantly , There sits in ...
Página 33
... behold the tools , The broken tools , that tyrants cast away By myriads , when they dare to pave their way With human hearts - to what ? —a dream alone . Can despots compass aught that hails their sway ? Or call with truth one span of ...
... behold the tools , The broken tools , that tyrants cast away By myriads , when they dare to pave their way With human hearts - to what ? —a dream alone . Can despots compass aught that hails their sway ? Or call with truth one span of ...
Página 43
... behold the hallow'd scene , Which others rave of , though they know it not ? Though here no more Apollo haunts his grot , And thou , the Muses ' seat , art now their grave , Some gentle Spirit still pervades the spot , Sighs in the gale ...
... behold the hallow'd scene , Which others rave of , though they know it not ? Though here no more Apollo haunts his grot , And thou , the Muses ' seat , art now their grave , Some gentle Spirit still pervades the spot , Sighs in the gale ...
Página 44
... Behold a train more fitting to inspire The song of love , than Andalusia's maids , Nurst in the glowing lap of soft desire : Ah ! that to these were given such peaceful shades As Greece can still bestow , though Glory fly her glades ...
... Behold a train more fitting to inspire The song of love , than Andalusia's maids , Nurst in the glowing lap of soft desire : Ah ! that to these were given such peaceful shades As Greece can still bestow , though Glory fly her glades ...
Términos y frases comunes
Acarnania Achelous adieu Albanian Ali Pacha ancient Arnaouts Athens Attica aught beautiful behold beneath bleed blood boast bosom breast caloyer CANTO Castri cave Childe Harold Childe Harold's Pilgrimage clime Constantinople dark dear deeds deem'd Delphi dome dost thou doth dread dwell earth Epirus ev'n fair fate gale gaze Giaour glorious Greece Greeks hail'd hand Harold's Pilgrimage hath heard heart Heaven honour hour Joannina lance land line last lonely Lord Lord Elgin lost lov'd Lusieri Mafra maid mighty mingling mortal Moslem mountain native ne'er never once pass'd Peace plain Pouqueville rock Romaic sacred scarce scene shore shrine sigh sigh'd sight skies slaves smile song sooth soul Spain Spanish splendour Stanza steed Tambourgi tear thee thine Thrasybulus throng Turks unmov'd vainly view'd walls wave weary ween weep wild youth Zitza
Pasajes populares
Página 62 - But midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess, And roam along, the world's tired denizen, With none who bless us, none whom we can bless ; Minions of splendour shrinking from distress ! None that, with kindred consciousness endued, If we were not, would seem to smile the less, Of all that flatter'd, follow'd, sought, and sued ; This is to be alone ; this, this is solitude ! XXVII.
Página 61 - 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 dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; This is not solitude; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Página 96 - 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 50 - Ancient of days ! august Athena ! where, Where are thy men of might, thy grand in soul? Gone, — glimmering through the dream of things that were : First in the race that led to glory's goal, They won, and passed away, — is this the whole?
Página 89 - Fair Greece ! sad relic of departed worth ! Immortal, though no more ; though fallen, great! Who now shall lead thy scatter'd children forth, And long accustom'd bondage uncreate ? Not such thy sons who whilome did await. The hopeless warriors of a willing doom. In bleak Thermopylae's sepulchral strait — Oh ! who that gallant spirit shall resume, Leap from Eurota's banks, and call thee from the tomb ? LXXIV.
Página xii - Whilome in Albion's isle there dwelt a youth Who ne in virtue's ways did take delight ; ". But spent his days in riot most uncouth, And vex'd with mirth the drowsy ear of Night. Ah, me ! in sooth he was a shameless wight, Sore given to revel and ungodly glee ; Few earthly things found favour in his sight Save concubines and carnal companie, And flaunting wassailers of high and low degree.
Página 102 - 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 52 - Look on its broken arch, its ruin'd wall, Its chambers desolate, and portals foul: Yes, this was once Ambition's airy hall, The dome of Thought, the palace of the Soul : Behold through each lack-lustre, eyeless hole, The gay recess of Wisdom and of Wit, And Passion's host, that never brook'd control : Can all saint, sage, or sophist ever writ, People this lonely tower, this tenement refit? Well didst thou speak, Athena's wisest son ! '* All that we know is, nothing can be known.
Página 16 - By Heaven ! it is a splendid sight to see (For one who hath no friend, no brother there) Their rival scarfs of mix'd embroidery, Their various arms that glitter in the air...
Página 56 - Cold is the heart, fair Greece ! that looks on thee, Nor feels as lovers o'er the dust they loved; Dull is the eye that will not weep to see Thy walls defaced, thy mouldering shrines removed By British hands, which it had best behoved To guard those relics ne'er to be restored.