The Giaour: A Fragment of a Turkish TaleThomas Davison, 1814 - 75 sider |
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Side 9
... bound ; The foam that streaks the courser's side , Seems gather'd from the ocean - tide : Though weary waves are sunk to rest , There's none within his rider's breast , 185 And though to - morrow's tempest lower , " Tis THE GIAOUR . 9.
... bound ; The foam that streaks the courser's side , Seems gather'd from the ocean - tide : Though weary waves are sunk to rest , There's none within his rider's breast , 185 And though to - morrow's tempest lower , " Tis THE GIAOUR . 9.
Side 18
... Seems one that claims your utmost care , " And , doubtless , holds some precious freight , " My humble bark would gladly wait . " " Thou speakest sooth , thy skiff unmoor , " And waft us from the silent shore ; 365 " " Nay , leave the ...
... Seems one that claims your utmost care , " And , doubtless , holds some precious freight , " My humble bark would gladly wait . " " Thou speakest sooth , thy skiff unmoor , " And waft us from the silent shore ; 365 " " Nay , leave the ...
Side 22
... the Moslem's power Had wrong'd him with the faithless Giaour . Somewhat of this had Hassan deem'd , But still so fond , so fair she seem'd , 455 460 Too well he trusted to the slave Whose treachery deserv'd 22 THE GIAOUR .
... the Moslem's power Had wrong'd him with the faithless Giaour . Somewhat of this had Hassan deem'd , But still so fond , so fair she seem'd , 455 460 Too well he trusted to the slave Whose treachery deserv'd 22 THE GIAOUR .
Side 40
... seems he not of Othman race , " But only Christian in his face : 810 " I'd judge him some stray renegade , 66 Repentant of the change he made , " Save that he shuns our holy shrine , " Nor tastes the sacred bread and wine . " Great ...
... seems he not of Othman race , " But only Christian in his face : 810 " I'd judge him some stray renegade , 66 Repentant of the change he made , " Save that he shuns our holy shrine , " Nor tastes the sacred bread and wine . " Great ...
Side 49
... seem- My memory now is but the tomb 1000 " Of joys long dead - my hope their doom- " Though better to have died with those " Than bear a life of lingering woes- " My spirit shrunk not to sustain " The searching throes of ceaseless pain ...
... seem- My memory now is but the tomb 1000 " Of joys long dead - my hope their doom- " Though better to have died with those " Than bear a life of lingering woes- " My spirit shrunk not to sustain " The searching throes of ceaseless pain ...
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
Amaun arms aught band beam bear beneath blood bosom bread and salt breast breath brow Calpac CANTO cheek Conrad dare dark death deeds deep despair doom dread dream earth Ezzelin fair faithless falchion fate fear feel fix'd foes gaze Giaffir Giaour glance grave grief Gulnare hand Haram Hassan hast hate hath heard heart heaven Hellespont hope hour Houris knew Koran land Lara Lara's less light line 12 lonely look lord LORD BYRON lov'd Mussulman ne'er never night Note numbers o'er once Otho Pacha pale pass'd perchance pride rest rose round sabre scarce seem'd Selim Seyd shore silent slave smile soothe sought soul spirit steed stern stranger strife tale tear tell thee thine thou thought tide Timariot turban Turkish turn'd Twas twere voice wave Whate'er wild wind words wound Zuleika
Populære passager
Side 1 - KNOW ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime...
Side 62 - Salamis ! Their azure arches through the long expanse More deeply purpled meet his mellowing glance, And tenderest tints, along their summits driven, Mark his gay course and own the hues of heaven ; Till, darkly shaded from the land and deep, Behind his Delphian cliff he sinks to sleep.
Side 1 - Gul in her bloom? Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, And the voice of the nightingale never is mute, Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky, In colour though varied, in beauty may vie...
Side 11 - Unlike the heroes of each ancient race, Demons in act, but Gods at least in face, In Conrad's form seems little to admire, Though his dark eye-brow shades a glance of fire : Robust but not Herculean — to the sight No giant frame sets forth his common height ; 20& Yet in the whole — who paused to look again, Saw more than marks the crowd of vulgar men — They gaze and marvel how — and still confess That thus it is, but why they cannot guess.
Side 7 - Bear witness, Greece, thy living page ! Attest it many a deathless age ! While kings, in dusty darkness hid, Have left a nameless pyramid, Thy heroes, though the general doom Hath swept the column from their tomb, A mightier monument command, The mountains of their native land...
Side 4 - And — but for that sad shrouded eye, That fires not, wins not, weeps not now, And but for that chill changeless brow, Where cold Obstruction's apathy Appals the gazing mourner's heart...
Side 4 - He who hath bent him o'er the dead Ere the first day of death is fled, The first dark day of nothingness, The last of danger and distress, (Before Decay's effacing fingers Have swept the lines where beauty lingers...
Side 25 - Sestos' daughter. Oh ! when alone along the sky Her turret-torch was blazing high, Though rising gale, and breaking foam, And shrieking sea-birds warned him home ; And clouds aloft and tides below, With signs and sounds, forbade to go, He could not see, he would not hear > Or sound or sign foreboding fear ; His eye but saw that light of love, The only star it hailed above; His ear but rang with Hero's song, " Ye waves, divide not lovers long !"— That tale is old, but Love anew May nerve young hearts...
Side 10 - That moulds another's weakness to its will; Wields with their hands, but, still to these unknown, Makes even their mightiest deeds appear his own. Such hath it been — shall be — beneath the sun The many still must labour for the one! 'Tis Nature's doom — but let the wretch who toils, Accuse not, hate not lam who wears the spoils.
Side 10 - Whose name appals the fiercest of his crew, And tints each swarthy cheek with sallower hue; Still sways their souls with that commanding art That dazzles, leads, yet chills the vulgar heart. What is that spell, that thus his lawless train Confess and envy, yet oppose in vain? What should it be, that thus their faith can bind? The power of Thought - the magic of the Mind!