Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt, Հատոր 1 |
From inside the book
Արդյունքներ 25–ի 1-ից 5-ը:
Էջ 19
Let winds be shrill , let waves roll high , I fear not wave nor wind : 3 Yet marvel not
, Sir Childe , that I Am sorrowful in mind ; 4 For I have from my father gone , A
mother whom I love , And have no friend , save these alone , But thee — and one
...
Let winds be shrill , let waves roll high , I fear not wave nor wind : 3 Yet marvel not
, Sir Childe , that I Am sorrowful in mind ; 4 For I have from my father gone , A
mother whom I love , And have no friend , save these alone , But thee — and one
...
Էջ 22
Welcome , welcome , ye dark - blue waves ! And when you fail my sight ,
Welcome , ye deserts , and ye caves ! My native Land - Good Night ! " 3 i From
the following passage in a letter to Mr . Dallas , it would appear that that
gentleman had ...
Welcome , welcome , ye dark - blue waves ! And when you fail my sight ,
Welcome , ye deserts , and ye caves ! My native Land - Good Night ! " 3 i From
the following passage in a letter to Mr . Dallas , it would appear that that
gentleman had ...
Էջ 24
... 2 But now whereon a thousand keels did ride Of mighty strength , since Albion
was allied , And to the Lusians did her aid afford : A nation swoln with ignorance
and pride , Who lick get loathe the hand that waves the sword To save them from
...
... 2 But now whereon a thousand keels did ride Of mighty strength , since Albion
was allied , And to the Lusians did her aid afford : A nation swoln with ignorance
and pride , Who lick get loathe the hand that waves the sword To save them from
...
Էջ 33
Here leans the idle shepherd on his crook , And vacant on the rippling 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 ...
Here leans the idle shepherd on his crook , And vacant on the rippling 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 ...
Էջ 77
But where is Harold ? shall I then forget To urge the gloomy wanderer o ' er the
wave ? ... the bow , The convoy spread like wild swans in their flight , The dullest
sailer wearing bravely now , So gaily curl the waves before each dashing prow .
But where is Harold ? shall I then forget To urge the gloomy wanderer o ' er the
wave ? ... the bow , The convoy spread like wild swans in their flight , The dullest
sailer wearing bravely now , So gaily curl the waves before each dashing prow .
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Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. A romaunt. [With a portrait.] George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Ամբողջությամբ դիտվող - 1842 |
Common terms and phrases
ancient appear Athens bear beauty beneath blood breast called Canto Childe church dark death deep earth fair fall fame feel foes French gaze give Greece Greek hand Harold hath heard heart Heaven hills Historical honour hope hour Italy kind lake land late least leave less letter light live look Lord Lord Byron lost memory mind mother mountains Nature never o'er observed once pass perhaps plain poet present received remains rise rock Roman Rome round ruin says scene seems seen shore side song soul spirit stands Stanza statue tears temple thee thine things thou thought tomb traveller tree true turn Venice voice walls waters waves whole wild winds young
Սիրված հատվածներ
Էջ 245 - His steps are not upon thy paths— thy fields Are not a spoil for him— thou dost arise And shake him from thee ; the vile strength he wields For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray And howling, to his Gods, where haply lies His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth — there let him lay.
Էջ 127 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, — alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass...
Էջ 124 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather'd then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell; But hush!
Էջ 247 - twas a pleasing fear; For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane, — as I do here.
Էջ 158 - Could I embody and unbosom now That which is most within me — could I wreak My thoughts upon expression, and thus throw Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings, strong or weak, All that I would have sought, and all I seek, Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe — into one word, And that one word were Lightning, I would speak ; But as it is, I live and die unheard, With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword.
Էջ 155 - The sky is changed ! — and such a change ! Oh night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman ! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder...
Էջ 230 - And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder-shower ; and now The arena swims around him— he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch who won. He heard it, but he heeded not— his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away...
Էջ 115 - Is THY face like thy mother's, my fair child! Ada ! sole daughter of my house and heart ? When last I saw thy young blue eyes they smiled, And then we parted, — not as now we part, But with a hope. — Awaking with a start, The waters heave around me ; and on high The winds lift up their voices: I depart, Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by, When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.
Էջ 153 - This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction ; once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Sounds sweet as if a Sister's voice reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved. t-XXXVI. It is the hush of night...
Էջ 208 - Alas ! the lofty city ! and alas ! The trebly hundred triumphs ! and the day When Brutus made the dagger's edge surpass The conqueror's sword in bearing fame away ! Alas, for Tully's voice, and Virgil's lay, And Livy's pictured page ! — but these shall be Her resurrection • all beside — decay. Alas, for Earth, for never shall we see That brightness in her eye she bore when Rome was free...
Բիբլիոգրաֆիական տվյալներ
| Վերնագիր | Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt, Հատոր 1 Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt, George Gordon Byron Baron Byron |
| Հեղինակ | George Gordon Byron Baron Byron |
| Հրատարակիչ | J. Murray, 1837 |
| Original from | Հարվարդի համալսարան |
| Digitized | 25 Փետրվար 2008 |
| Length | 329 էջ |
| Export Citation | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |