Byron's Childe Harold, Cantos III and IV: The Prisoner of Chillon, and Other PoemsH. Holt, 1913 - 232 էջ |
From inside the book
Արդյունքներ 32–ի 1-ից 5-ը:
Էջ 10
... thine , young , gallant Howard ! XXX There have been tears and breaking hearts for thee , And mine were nothing , had I such to give ; But when I stood beneath the fresh green tree , Which living waves where thou didst cease to live ...
... thine , young , gallant Howard ! XXX There have been tears and breaking hearts for thee , And mine were nothing , had I such to give ; But when I stood beneath the fresh green tree , Which living waves where thou didst cease to live ...
Էջ 12
... Thy throne had still been thine , or never been ; For daring made thy rise as fall : thou seek'st Even now to reassume the imperial mien , And shake again the world , the Thunderer of the scene ! XXXVII Conqueror and captive of the ...
... Thy throne had still been thine , or never been ; For daring made thy rise as fall : thou seek'st Even now to reassume the imperial mien , And shake again the world , the Thunderer of the scene ! XXXVII Conqueror and captive of the ...
Էջ 13
... thy footstool , now More than thy meanest soldier taught to yield : An empire thou couldst crush , command , rebuild , But govern not thy pettiest passion , nor , However deeply in men's spirits skill'd , Look through thine own , nor ...
... thy footstool , now More than thy meanest soldier taught to yield : An empire thou couldst crush , command , rebuild , But govern not thy pettiest passion , nor , However deeply in men's spirits skill'd , Look through thine own , nor ...
Էջ 14
... thine overthrow : ' Tis but a worthless world to win or lose ; So hath it proved to thee , and all such lot who ... thine , not then ( Unless aside thy purple had been thrown ) Like stern Diogenes to mock at men ; For sceptered cynics ...
... thine overthrow : ' Tis but a worthless world to win or lose ; So hath it proved to thee , and all such lot who ... thine , not then ( Unless aside thy purple had been thrown ) Like stern Diogenes to mock at men ; For sceptered cynics ...
Էջ 16
... thine , Maternal Nature ! for who teems like thee , Thus on the banks of thy majestic Rhine ? There Harold gazes on a work divine , A blending of all beauties ; streams and dells , Fruit , foliage , crag , wood , corn - field , mountain ...
... thine , Maternal Nature ! for who teems like thee , Thus on the banks of thy majestic Rhine ? There Harold gazes on a work divine , A blending of all beauties ; streams and dells , Fruit , foliage , crag , wood , corn - field , mountain ...
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Common terms and phrases
Alps Arqua Augusta Bards battle beauty beneath blood breast breath bright brow Byron's note Cæsar Canto canto of Childe Castle of Chillon cents Childe Harold Childe Harold's Pilgrimage Clarens clouds Coliseum dark daughter dead death deep desolate dungeon dust earth Edited empires Epistle to Augusta eyes fame fate feeling Florence foes gaze Giaour glory grave Greece hath heart heaven horse human immortal lake Lake Geneva liberty lines lived Lord Byron lyric Mazeppa mind mortal mountains Napoleon nature never night o'er ocean passage passion Petrarch poem poet poetry Prisoner of Chillon Rhine rime rock Roman Rome ruin Samian wine scene seem'd Shelley shore Siege of Corinth smile soul spirit stanzas stars story sweet Tasso tears thee thine things thou thought throne tomb tree twas tyrant Venice walls Waterloo waves wild wind woes Wordsworth youth
Սիրված հատվածներ
Էջ 8 - Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
Էջ 8 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet, — But hark!
Էջ 19 - The castled crag of Drachenfels("> Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, Whose breast of waters broadly swells Between the banks which bear the vine, And hills all rich with blossom'd trees, And fields which promise corn and wine, And scatter'd cities crowning these, Whose far white walls along them shine, Have strew'da scene, which I should see With double joy wert thou with me ! 2.
Էջ 179 - They parted— ne'er to meet again! But never either found another To free the hollow heart from paining — They stood aloof, the scars remaining, Like cliffs which had been rent asunder; A dreary sea now flows between;— But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, Shall wholly do away, I ween, The marks of that which once hath been.
Էջ 162 - The mountains look on Marathon, And Marathon looks on the sea. And musing there an hour alone, I dreamed that Greece might still be free, For standing on the Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave.
Էջ 149 - And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord...
Էջ 36 - The morn is up again, the dewy morn, With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom, Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn, And living as if earth contain'd no tomb, — And glowing into day: we may resume The march of our existence: and thus I, Still on thy shores, fair Leman!
Էջ 109 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard ! — May none those marks efface ! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
Էջ 1 - 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.
Էջ 165 - Place me on Sunium's marbled steep, Where nothing, save the waves and I, May hear our mutual murmurs sweep; There, swan-like, let me sing and die: A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine— Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!