Childe Harold's pilgrimageJohn Murray, 1831 |
Fra bogen
Resultater 1-5 af 51
Side 7
... nature , and the stimulus of travel ( except ambition , the most powerful of all excite- ments ) are lost on a soul so constituted , or rather mis- directed . Had I proceeded with the poem , this cha- racter would have deepened as he ...
... nature , and the stimulus of travel ( except ambition , the most powerful of all excite- ments ) are lost on a soul so constituted , or rather mis- directed . Had I proceeded with the poem , this cha- racter would have deepened as he ...
Side 20
... Nature , waste thy wonders on such men ? Lo ! Cintra's glorious Eden intervenes In variegated maze of mount and glen . Ah , me ! what hand can pencil guide , or pen , To follow half on which the eye dilates Through views more dazzling ...
... Nature , waste thy wonders on such men ? Lo ! Cintra's glorious Eden intervenes In variegated maze of mount and glen . Ah , me ! what hand can pencil guide , or pen , To follow half on which the eye dilates Through views more dazzling ...
Side 57
... Nature's charms , and view her stores unroll❜d . XXVI . But midst the crowd , the hum , the shock of men , To hear , to see , to feel , and to possess , And roam along , the world's tired denizen , With none who bless us , none whom we ...
... Nature's charms , and view her stores unroll❜d . XXVI . But midst the crowd , the hum , the shock of men , To hear , to see , to feel , and to possess , And roam along , the world's tired denizen , With none who bless us , none whom we ...
Side 61
... Nature is the kindest mother still , Though alway changing , in her aspect mild ; From her bare bosom let me take my fill , Her never - wean'd , though not her favour'd child . Oh ! she is fairest in her features wild , Where nothing ...
... Nature is the kindest mother still , Though alway changing , in her aspect mild ; From her bare bosom let me take my fill , Her never - wean'd , though not her favour'd child . Oh ! she is fairest in her features wild , Where nothing ...
Side 65
... Nature's sheen to see . L. Here in the sultriest season let him rest , Fresh is the green beneath those aged trees ; Here winds of gentlest wing will fan his breast , From heaven itself he may inhale the breeze : The plain is far ...
... Nature's sheen to see . L. Here in the sultriest season let him rest , Fresh is the green beneath those aged trees ; Here winds of gentlest wing will fan his breast , From heaven itself he may inhale the breeze : The plain is far ...
Almindelige termer og sætninger
Albania Ali Pacha amongst ancient Athens beauty behold beneath blood Boccaccio bosom breast breath brow Cæsar Canto Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE church Cicero Constantinople dark death deem'd deep doth dust earth Egeria fair fame feel foes gaze glory gondoliers Greece Greek hand hath heart Heaven hills honour hope immortal Italian Italy Julius Cæsar lake land line last live Lord mind mortal mountains never o'er once pass pass'd Petrarch plain poet rock Romaic Roman Rome scene seen shore sigh smile song soul spot Stanza Storia Tasso tears temple thee thine things thou thought tomb triumph Venetians Venice walls waves wild winds woes wolf words ἀπὸ δὲν διὰ Ἐγὼ εἶναι εἰς εἰς τὴν ἐν καὶ κὴ μὲ νὰ σᾶς τὰ τὰς τὴν τῆς τὸ τὸν τοῦ τοὺς τῶν ὡς
Populære passager
Side 269 - 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.
Side 269 - 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.
Side 270 - 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.
Side 256 - And his droop'd 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 hail'd the wretch who won. He heard it, but he heeded not— his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away...
Side 168 - 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.
Side 235 - Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! 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! Whose agonies are evils of a day — A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. LXXIX. The Niobe of nations ! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe; An empty urn within...
Side 255 - I see before me the Gladiator lie: He leans upon his hand — his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his droop'd 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 hail'd the wretch who won.
Side 176 - Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part Of me and of my soul, as I of them?
Side 218 - The moon is up, and yet it is not night — Sunset divides the sky with her — a sea Of glory streams along the Alpine height Of blue Friuli's mountains ; heaven is free From clouds, but of all colours seems to be Melted to one vast Iris of the West, Where the day joins the past Eternity; While, on the other hand, meek Dian's crest Floats through the azure air — an island of the blest...
Side 183 - Could I embody and unbosom now That which is most within me — could I wreak My thoughts upon expression, and thus throw Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings, strong or weak, All that I would have sought, and all I seek, Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe — into one word, And that one word were Lightning, I would speak ; But as it is, I live and die unheard, With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword.