Childe Harold's pilgrimageJohn Murray, 1831 |
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Side 44
... least like me , awake ! 8 . Through many a clime ' tis mine to go , With many a retrospection curst ; And all my solace is to know , Whate'er betides , I've known the worst . 9 . What is that worst ? Nay do not ask- In pity from the ...
... least like me , awake ! 8 . Through many a clime ' tis mine to go , With many a retrospection curst ; And all my solace is to know , Whate'er betides , I've known the worst . 9 . What is that worst ? Nay do not ask- In pity from the ...
Side 59
... 'd that a youth so raw Nor felt , nor feign'd at least , the oft - told flames , Which , though sometimes they frown , yet rarely anger dames . XXXIII . Little knew she that seeming marble heart , CANTO H 59 PILGRIMAGE . 69.
... 'd that a youth so raw Nor felt , nor feign'd at least , the oft - told flames , Which , though sometimes they frown , yet rarely anger dames . XXXIII . Little knew she that seeming marble heart , CANTO H 59 PILGRIMAGE . 69.
Side 71
... , all they had : Such conduct bears Philanthropy's rare stamp- To rest the weary and to soothe the sad , Doth lesson happier men , and shames at least the bad . LXIX . It came to pass , that when he CANTO II 71 PILGRIMAGE .
... , all they had : Such conduct bears Philanthropy's rare stamp- To rest the weary and to soothe the sad , Doth lesson happier men , and shames at least the bad . LXIX . It came to pass , that when he CANTO II 71 PILGRIMAGE .
Side 79
... least who owe thee most ; Their birth , their blood , and that sublime record Of hero sires , who shame thy now degenerate horde ! LXXXIV . When riseth Lacedemon's hardihood , When Thebes Epaminondas rears again , When Athens ' children ...
... least who owe thee most ; Their birth , their blood , and that sublime record Of hero sires , who shame thy now degenerate horde ! LXXXIV . When riseth Lacedemon's hardihood , When Thebes Epaminondas rears again , When Athens ' children ...
Side 86
... least doubt that we should have adorned a tale instead of telling one . The crime of assas- sination is not confined to Portugal : in Sicily and Malta we are knocked on the head at a handsome average nightly , and not a Sicilian or ...
... least doubt that we should have adorned a tale instead of telling one . The crime of assas- sination is not confined to Portugal : in Sicily and Malta we are knocked on the head at a handsome average nightly , and not a Sicilian or ...
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.