Childe Harold: Canto the Fourth, The Prisoner of Chillon and MazepaHoughton Mifflin Company, 1909 - 136 էջ |
From inside the book
Արդյունքներ 28–ի 1-ից 5-ը:
Էջ vii
... Rome . The poem was completed in the latter part of 1817 . In the meantime The Prisoner of Chillon had been completed and Manfred had been begun . These were fol- lowed by Beppo ( 1818 ) , Prophecy of Dante ( 1819 ) , Ma- rino Faliero ...
... Rome . The poem was completed in the latter part of 1817 . In the meantime The Prisoner of Chillon had been completed and Manfred had been begun . These were fol- lowed by Beppo ( 1818 ) , Prophecy of Dante ( 1819 ) , Ma- rino Faliero ...
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... Rome ! And even since , and now , fair Italy , Thou art the garden of the world , the home Of all Art yields , and Nature can decree ; Even in thy desert , what is like to thee ? Thy very weeds are beautiful , thy waste More rich than ...
... Rome ! And even since , and now , fair Italy , Thou art the garden of the world , the home Of all Art yields , and Nature can decree ; Even in thy desert , what is like to thee ? Thy very weeds are beautiful , thy waste More rich than ...
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... , The Roman friend of Rome's least - mortal mind , The friend of Tully . As my bark did skim The bright blue waters with a fanning wind , Came Megara before me , and behind 395 400 Ægina lay , Piræus on the right , CHILDE HAROLD 15.
... , The Roman friend of Rome's least - mortal mind , The friend of Tully . As my bark did skim The bright blue waters with a fanning wind , Came Megara before me , and behind 395 400 Ægina lay , Piræus on the right , CHILDE HAROLD 15.
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... Rome Rome imperial , bows her to the storm , In the same dust and blackness , and we pass The skeleton of her Titanic form , Wrecks of another world whose ashes still are warm . XLVII . Yet , Italy ! through every other land Thy wrongs ...
... Rome Rome imperial , bows her to the storm , In the same dust and blackness , and we pass The skeleton of her Titanic form , Wrecks of another world whose ashes still are warm . XLVII . Yet , Italy ! through every other land Thy wrongs ...
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... a passing sigh , because it told for whom ! LIX . And Santa Croce wants their mighty dust , - Yet for this want more noted , as of yore The Cæsar's pageant , shorn of Brutus ' bust , Did but of Rome's best Son remind her more . 20 BYRON.
... a passing sigh , because it told for whom ! LIX . And Santa Croce wants their mighty dust , - Yet for this want more noted , as of yore The Cæsar's pageant , shorn of Brutus ' bust , Did but of Rome's best Son remind her more . 20 BYRON.
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Childe Harold: Canto the Fourth, The Prisoner of Chillon and Mazepa George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Ամբողջությամբ դիտվող - 1909 |
Common terms and phrases
15 cents Æneid Apollo Belvedere Arqua ashes Bards Battle of Pultowa beauty beneath Biographical Sketch blood bound breast breath brow Byron Cæsar cantos castle castle of Chillon chain Childe Harold Childe Harold's Pilgrimage Coliseum Cossacks Crown 8vo Dante dark dead death deep dome doth dread dungeon dust E. H. Coleridge earth effect English eyes feel Florence foes gaze GEORGE HERBERT PALMER glory gray hath heart heaven Hetman Hobhouse hope hour hyæna immortal Italy Julius Cæsar King lake light limbs linen Literature Lord Mazeppa mighty mind monarch mother mountains Napoleon night Note o'er ocean Petrarch poem poet Prisoner of Chillon Riverside Shakespeare Roman Rome round ruin scene seem'd seen shine shore soul spirit Stanza star steed Tasso tears thee thine thou thought tomb tree Ukraine Venice wall waters waves wild wind woes youth
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Էջ 27 - The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, Ye!
Էջ 62 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore. There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.
Էջ 63 - The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake And monarchs tremble in their capitals, The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee and arbiter of war, — These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride or spoils of Trafalgar.
Էջ 49 - I see before me the Gladiator lie : He leans upon his hand ; his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his drooped head sinks gradually low : 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 hailed the wretch who won.
Էջ 49 - Were with his heart, and that was far away ; He reck'd not of the life he lost nor prize, But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother — he, their sire, Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday — All this rush'd with his blood — Shall he expire And unavenged? Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire!
Էջ 63 - Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee — Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they? Thy waters wash'd them power while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts: — not so thou; Unchangeable, save to thy wild waves' play, Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow: Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
Էջ 64 - And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy I wanton'd with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight ; and if the freshening sea Made them a terror — '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 28 - But Rome is as the desert — where we steer Stumbling o'er recollections ; now we clap Our hands, and cry 'Eureka!
Էջ 62 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed...
Էջ 62 - 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.