The poetical works of lord Byron, ed. with a critical mem. by W. M. RossettiWard Lock, 1880 |
From inside the book
Արդյունքներ 88–ի 1-ից 5-ը:
Էջ xix
... sleep . " He opened his eyes for one moment , and then closed them for ever . The great poet expired at six P.M. on the 19th of April 1824. Bitter was the mourning of his attached comrades and attendants ; bitter that of Greece ; bitter ...
... sleep . " He opened his eyes for one moment , and then closed them for ever . The great poet expired at six P.M. on the 19th of April 1824. Bitter was the mourning of his attached comrades and attendants ; bitter that of Greece ; bitter ...
Էջ 5
... sleep , So up thy hill , ambrosial Richmond , heaves Dull Maurice all his granite weight of leaves : * Smooth , solid monuments of mental pain ! The petrifactions of a plodding brain , That ere they reach the top fall lumbering back ...
... sleep , So up thy hill , ambrosial Richmond , heaves Dull Maurice all his granite weight of leaves : * Smooth , solid monuments of mental pain ! The petrifactions of a plodding brain , That ere they reach the top fall lumbering back ...
Էջ 7
... Sleeping Beauties , " but anon In five facetious acts comes thundering on , t While poor John Bull , bewilder'd with the scene , Stares , wondering what the devil it can mean ; But as some hands applaud , a venal few ! Rather than sleep ...
... Sleeping Beauties , " but anon In five facetious acts comes thundering on , t While poor John Bull , bewilder'd with the scene , Stares , wondering what the devil it can mean ; But as some hands applaud , a venal few ! Rather than sleep ...
Էջ 8
... sleep my pen for ever ! and my voice Be only heard to hail him , and rejoice ; Rejoice , and yield my feeble praise , though I May feel the lash that Virtue must apply . As for the smaller fry , who swarm in shoals From silly Hafiz up ...
... sleep my pen for ever ! and my voice Be only heard to hail him , and rejoice ; Rejoice , and yield my feeble praise , though I May feel the lash that Virtue must apply . As for the smaller fry , who swarm in shoals From silly Hafiz up ...
Էջ 9
... sleep ? Unless , perchance , from his cold bier she turns To deck the turf that wraps her minstrel , Burns ! No ! though contempt hath mark'd the spurious brood , The race who rhyme from folly , or for food , Yet still some genuine sons ...
... sleep ? Unless , perchance , from his cold bier she turns To deck the turf that wraps her minstrel , Burns ! No ! though contempt hath mark'd the spurious brood , The race who rhyme from folly , or for food , Yet still some genuine sons ...
Այլ խմբագրություններ - View all
Common terms and phrases
Adah Anah art thou aught beauty behold beneath blood bosom breast breath brow Cæs Cain call'd Calmar coursers dare dark dead death deep Doge doth dread dream e'er earth eyes fair fame father fear feel gaze Giaour glory grave Greece hand hath hear heard heart heaven honour hope hour Iden Juan king knew Lady leave less Lioni live look look'd lord Lucifer Michel Steno mortal Myrrha ne'er never night nought o'er once PANIA pass'd passion Rome round SARDANAPALUS satraps scarce scene seem'd shore Sieg Siegendorf sigh sire slave sleep smile soul spirit stars Stral strange Suwarrow sweet sword tears thee thine things thou art thought turn'd twas twill unto voice wave whate'er wild words young youth
Սիրված հատվածներ
Էջ 38 - And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed. The mustering squadron, and the clattering car. Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb. Or whispering with white lips — "The foe! They come! they come ! " And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering
Էջ 134 - 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 38 - No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet But hark! - that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! Arm! it is - it is - the cannon's opening roar!
Էջ 555 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Էջ 555 - And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail : And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
Էջ 403 - Phoebus sprung. Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set. The Scian and the Teian Muse, The hero's harp, the lover's lute Have found the fame your shores refuse. Their place of birth alone is mute To sounds which echo further west Than your sires
Էջ 64 - 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 64 - 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...
Էջ 64 - 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 403 - Tis something, in the dearth of fame, Though link'd among a fetter'd race, To feel at least a patriot's shame, Even as I sing, suffuse my face; For what is left the poet here? For Greeks a blush - for Greece a tear.