Childe Harold's Pilgrimage,: A Romaunt: and Other PoemsThomas Davison, 1814 - 304 páginas |
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Página 14
... waves roll high , I fear not wave nor wind ; Yet marvel not , Sir Childe , that I Am sorrowful in mind ; For I have from my father gone , A mother whom I love , And have no friend , save these alone , But thee - and one above . " 5 . My ...
... waves roll high , I fear not wave nor wind ; Yet marvel not , Sir Childe , that I Am sorrowful in mind ; For I have from my father gone , A mother whom I love , And have no friend , save these alone , But thee - and one above . " 5 . My ...
Página 17
... , So not again to mine . Welcome , welcome , ye dark - blue waves ! And when you fail my sight , Welcome , ye deserts , and ye caves ! My native Land - Good Night ! " с XIV . On , on the vessel flies , the CANTO I. 17 PILGRIMAGE .
... , So not again to mine . Welcome , welcome , ye dark - blue waves ! And when you fail my sight , Welcome , ye deserts , and ye caves ! My native Land - Good Night ! " с XIV . On , on the vessel flies , the CANTO I. 17 PILGRIMAGE .
Página 19
... waves the sword To save them from the wrath of Gaul's unsparing lord . XVII . But whoso entereth within this town , That , sheening far , celestial seems to be , Disconsolate will wander up and down , ' Mid many things unsightly to ...
... waves the sword To save them from the wrath of Gaul's unsparing lord . XVII . But whoso entereth within this town , That , sheening far , celestial seems to be , Disconsolate will wander up and down , ' Mid many things unsightly to ...
Página 27
... waves doth look , That peaceful still ' twixt bitterest foemen flow ; For proud each peasant as the noblest duke : Well doth the Spanish hind the difference know ' Twixt him and Lusian slave , the lowest of the low . " XXXIV . But ere ...
... waves doth look , That peaceful still ' twixt bitterest foemen flow ; For proud each peasant as the noblest duke : Well doth the Spanish hind the difference know ' Twixt him and Lusian slave , the lowest of the low . " XXXIV . But ere ...
Página 41
... wave her wing . LXI . Oft have I dream'd of Thee ! whose glorious name Who knows not , knows not man's divinest lore : And now I view thee , ' tis , alas ! with shame That I in feeblest accents must adore . When I recount thy ...
... wave her wing . LXI . Oft have I dream'd of Thee ! whose glorious name Who knows not , knows not man's divinest lore : And now I view thee , ' tis , alas ! with shame That I in feeblest accents must adore . When I recount thy ...
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt, Volúmenes2-3 George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Vista completa - 1842 |
Términos y frases comunes
Albania Ali Pacha amongst ancient Arnaout Athens aught beautiful behold beneath bosom breast Caimacam caloyer charms Childe Harold Childe Harold's Pilgrimage clime Constantinople Coray dark dear deem'd dread earth Epirus ev'n fair feel gaze Giaour Greece Greeks hath heart honour hope hour land Leander lonely Lord lov'd maid Moslem mountains ne'er never o'er once Pacha pang pass'd Pindus Pouqueville rock Romaic scene shore shrine sigh smile song sooth soul Spain Stanza sweet tear thee thine thing Thornton thou art thou hast thought translation Turkish Turks wave weep youth Zitza ἀγαπῶ ἂν Ας δὲ δὲν δὲν εἶναι Διὰ νὰ εἶναι εἰς τὴν εἰς τὸ Ελλήνων ἐν ἕνα ἡμεῖς ἡμῶν ἦν θέλει Θηβαῖος καὶ κὴ με νὰ οἱ πῶς σᾶς σε τὰ τὰς τε τῇ τῆς τὸ τὸν τῶν ὡς
Pasajes populares
Página 109 - Hereditary bondsmen ! know ye not Who would be free themselves must strike the blow ? By their right arms the conquest must be wrought? Will Gaul or Muscovite redress ye? no!
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 13 - Adieu, adieu! my native shore Fades o'er the waters blue; The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, And shrieks the wild sea-mew. Yon sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight; Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native Land - Good Night!
Página 80 - 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...
Página 31 - 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 ! What gallant war-hounds rouse them from their lair, And gnash their fangs, loud yelling for the prey ! All join the chase, but few the triumph share ; The Grave shall bear the chiefest prize away, And Havoc scarce for joy can number their array.
Página 70 - 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...
Página 120 - 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 39 - Her lover sinks — she sheds no ill-timed tear ; Her chief is slain — she fills his fatal post ; Her fellows flee — she checks their base career ; The foe retires — she heads the sallying host : Who can appease like her a lover's ghost ? Who can avenge so well a leader's fall?
Página 79 - 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 113 - A thousand years scarce serve to form a state ; An hour may lay it in the dust : and when Can man its shatter'd splendour renovate, Recall its virtues back, and vanquish Time and Fate?