The poetical works of lord Byron, ed. with a critical mem. by W. M. RossettiWard Lock, 1880 |
From inside the book
Արդյունքներ 86–ի 1-ից 5-ը:
Էջ 4
... thou ! Whether on ancient tombs thou tak'st thy stand , By gibbering spectres hail'd , thy kindred band ; Or tracest chaste descriptions on thy page , To please the females of our modest age : All hail , M.P. ! from whose infernal brain ...
... thou ! Whether on ancient tombs thou tak'st thy stand , By gibbering spectres hail'd , thy kindred band ; Or tracest chaste descriptions on thy page , To please the females of our modest age : All hail , M.P. ! from whose infernal brain ...
Էջ 26
... thou , my friend ! since unavailing woe Bursts from my heart , and mingles with the strain- Had the sword laid thee with the mighty low , Pride might forbid e'en Friendship to complain : I. But thus unlaurel'd to descend in vain , By ...
... thou , my friend ! since unavailing woe Bursts from my heart , and mingles with the strain- Had the sword laid thee with the mighty low , Pride might forbid e'en Friendship to complain : I. But thus unlaurel'd to descend in vain , By ...
Էջ 39
... Thou , who didst grudge him even that fleeting span , More than enough , thou fatal Waterloo ! Millions of tongues record thee , and anew Their children's lips shall echo them , and say , " Here , where the sword united nations drew ...
... Thou , who didst grudge him even that fleeting span , More than enough , thou fatal Waterloo ! Millions of tongues record thee , and anew Their children's lips shall echo them , and say , " Here , where the sword united nations drew ...
Էջ 55
... thou , whose chariot roll'd on Fortune's wheel , Triumphant Sylla ! Thou , who didst subdue Thy country's foes ere thou wouldst pause to feel The wrath of thy own wrongs , or reap the due Of hoarded vengeance till thine eagles flew O'er ...
... thou , whose chariot roll'd on Fortune's wheel , Triumphant Sylla ! Thou , who didst subdue Thy country's foes ere thou wouldst pause to feel The wrath of thy own wrongs , or reap the due Of hoarded vengeance till thine eagles flew O'er ...
Էջ 56
... thou , dread statue ! yet existent in The austerest form of naked majesty , Thou who beheldest , ' mid the assassins ' din , At thy bathed base the bloody Cæsar lie , Folding his robe in dying dignity , An offering to thine altar from ...
... thou , dread statue ! yet existent in The austerest form of naked majesty , Thou who beheldest , ' mid the assassins ' din , At thy bathed base the bloody Cæsar lie , Folding his robe in dying dignity , An offering to thine altar from ...
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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
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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.