Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt, Том 1J. Murray, 1837 - Всего страниц: 329 |
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Стр. 6
... true knights " sans peur , " though not " sans reproche . " If the story of the institution of the " Garter " be not a fable , the knights of that order have for several centuries borne the badge of a Countess of Salisbury , of ...
... true knights " sans peur , " though not " sans reproche . " If the story of the institution of the " Garter " be not a fable , the knights of that order have for several centuries borne the badge of a Countess of Salisbury , of ...
Стр. 16
... true , nor wrong these holy men . VIII . Yet oft - times in his maddest mirthful mood Strange pangs would flash along Childe Harold's brow , As if the memory of some deadly feud Or disappointed passion lurk'd below : But this none knew ...
... true , nor wrong these holy men . VIII . Yet oft - times in his maddest mirthful mood Strange pangs would flash along Childe Harold's brow , As if the memory of some deadly feud Or disappointed passion lurk'd below : But this none knew ...
Стр. 23
... In many a tome as true as Mandeville's of old . " ] [ " These Lusian brutes , and earth from worst of wretches purge . " MS . ] XVI . What beauties doth Lisboa first unfold ! Her Б 4 CANTO I. 223 PILGRIMAGE . XIV. ...
... In many a tome as true as Mandeville's of old . " ] [ " These Lusian brutes , and earth from worst of wretches purge . " MS . ] XVI . What beauties doth Lisboa first unfold ! Her Б 4 CANTO I. 223 PILGRIMAGE . XIV. ...
Стр. 42
... true : Sharp is the knife , and sudden is the stroke ; And sorely would the Gallic foeman rue , If subtle poniards , wrapt beneath the cloke , Could blunt the sabre's edge , or clear the cannon's smoke . LI . At every turn Morena's ...
... true : Sharp is the knife , and sudden is the stroke ; And sorely would the Gallic foeman rue , If subtle poniards , wrapt beneath the cloke , Could blunt the sabre's edge , or clear the cannon's smoke . LI . At every turn Morena's ...
Стр. 50
... true devotion monkish incense burns , And love and prayer unite , or rule the hour by turns . 1 LXVIII . The Sabbath comes , a day of blessed rest : What hallows it upon this Christian shore ? Lo ! it is sacred to a solemn feast : Hark ...
... true devotion monkish incense burns , And love and prayer unite , or rule the hour by turns . 1 LXVIII . The Sabbath comes , a day of blessed rest : What hallows it upon this Christian shore ? Lo ! it is sacred to a solemn feast : Hark ...
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Alban hill Albanians Ali Pacha amongst ancient Ariosto Athens beauty behold beneath blood Boccaccio bosom breast breath brow Cæsar called Canto charms Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE church Cicero clime Constantinople dark death deem'd deep dust earth Egeria fair fame feel Florence foes French gaze glory gondoliers Greece Greek hand hath heart Heaven hills Historical Notes Hobhouse honour hope hour immortal Italian Italy Julius Cæsar lake land letter lightning live Lord Byron maid mind mortal mother mountains ne'er never o'er once Pacha palace pass passion Petrarch plain poem poet Portrait Pouqueville rock Roman Rome ruins says scene seems seen shore sigh smile song soul spirit spot Stanza Tasso tears temple thee thine things thou thought tomb Turks Venetians Venice walls waves wild wind woes wolf
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Стр. 245 - 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.
Стр. 127 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, — alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass...
Стр. 124 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather'd then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell; But hush!
Стр. 247 - 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.
Стр. 158 - 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.
Стр. 155 - The sky is changed ! — and such a change ! Oh night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman ! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder...
Стр. 230 - 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...
Стр. 115 - Is THY face like thy mother's, my fair child! Ada ! sole daughter of my house and heart ? When last I saw thy young blue eyes they smiled, And then we parted, — not as now we part, But with a hope. — Awaking with a start, The waters heave around me ; and on high The winds lift up their voices: I depart, Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by, When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.
Стр. 153 - This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction ; once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Sounds sweet as if a Sister's voice reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved. t-XXXVI. It is the hush of night...
Стр. 208 - Alas ! the lofty city ! and alas ! The trebly hundred triumphs ! and the day When Brutus made the dagger's edge surpass The conqueror's sword in bearing fame away ! Alas, for Tully's voice, and Virgil's lay, And Livy's pictured page ! — but these shall be Her resurrection • all beside — decay. Alas, for Earth, for never shall we see That brightness in her eye she bore when Rome was free...