Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt |
From inside the book
Արդյունքներ 37–ի 1-ից 5-ը:
Էջ 182
Ferehance 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 . 10 . “ With thee , my bark , I'll swiftly go Atb ward the foaming brine ; Nor care what land thou bear'st ...
Ferehance 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 . 10 . “ With thee , my bark , I'll swiftly go Atb ward the foaming brine ; Nor care what land thou bear'st ...
Էջ 183
But man would mar them with an impious hand : And when the Almighty lifts his fiercest scourge ' Gainst those who most trausgress his high command With treble vengeance will his hot shafts urge Gaul's locust host , aud earth from ...
But man would mar them with an impious hand : And when the Almighty lifts his fiercest scourge ' Gainst those who most trausgress his high command With treble vengeance will his hot shafts urge Gaul's locust host , aud earth from ...
Էջ 184
Ah , me ! what hand can pencil guide , or pen , To follow half on which the eye dilates Through views more dazzling unto mortal ken Than those whereof such things the bard relates , Who to the awe - struck world unlock'd Elysium's gates ...
Ah , me ! what hand can pencil guide , or pen , To follow half on which the eye dilates Through views more dazzling unto mortal ken Than those whereof such things the bard relates , Who to the awe - struck world unlock'd Elysium's gates ...
Էջ 189
Lo ! where the Giant on the mountain stands , His blood - red tresses deep'ning in the sun , With death - shot glowing in his fiery hands , And eye that scorcheth all it glares upon ; Restless it rolls , now fixed , and now anon ...
Lo ! where the Giant on the mountain stands , His blood - red tresses deep'ning in the sun , With death - shot glowing in his fiery hands , And eye that scorcheth all it glares upon ; Restless it rolls , now fixed , and now anon ...
Էջ 193
Who hang so fiercely on the flying Gaul , Foil'd by a woman's hand , before a batter'd wall ? ( 11 ) LVII . Yet are Spain's maids no race of Amazons , But form'd for all the witching arts of love ; Though thus in arms they emulate her ...
Who hang so fiercely on the flying Gaul , Foil'd by a woman's hand , before a batter'd wall ? ( 11 ) LVII . Yet are Spain's maids no race of Amazons , But form'd for all the witching arts of love ; Though thus in arms they emulate her ...
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Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt, Հատոր 1 George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Ամբողջությամբ դիտվող - 1837 |
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bear beauty behold beneath blood blue bosom breast breath bright brow CANTO charms chief Childe clouds dark dead dear death deem deep doth dread dream dust dwell earth fair fall fame fate feel fire foes gaze Glory glow grave hand Harold hath heart heaven hills hope hour immortal Italy land leave less light live look lord lost meet mighty mind mortal mountains Nature never night o'er once pass passion past plain pride proud rise rock Rome round ruin scene seek seen shore sigh smile song soul sound spirit spring stand star stream sweet tears thee thine things thou thought thousand till tomb tree vain Venice voice walls waters waves wild wind woes young youth