Selections from the Poetry of Lord ByronH. Holt, 1900 - Всего страниц: 412 |
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Стр. v
... hand there is Byron the poet , whom , it is true , we cannot altogether separate from the personal Byron , but whom we should judge , as we judge other poets , by the best half of his work , in which , as Matthew Arnold , a poet writing ...
... hand there is Byron the poet , whom , it is true , we cannot altogether separate from the personal Byron , but whom we should judge , as we judge other poets , by the best half of his work , in which , as Matthew Arnold , a poet writing ...
Стр. viii
... hand like Ishmael's was against every one's and every one's against mine . " Practically all of Byron's heroes are types of that proud disdain which Dante and mediæval writers on ethics denominated superbia . Such are Childe Harold ...
... hand like Ishmael's was against every one's and every one's against mine . " Practically all of Byron's heroes are types of that proud disdain which Dante and mediæval writers on ethics denominated superbia . Such are Childe Harold ...
Стр. ix
... hand was against him . There is his melancholy and his moodiness and his love of solitude . There is his improvident extrava- gance , balanced in later years by freaks of avarice ; his silent rages " and " high impatient temper " ( " as ...
... hand was against him . There is his melancholy and his moodiness and his love of solitude . There is his improvident extrava- gance , balanced in later years by freaks of avarice ; his silent rages " and " high impatient temper " ( " as ...
Стр. xii
... hand or Shelley on the other . His intuitions were not so subtle and fine as those of Keats or of Coleridge . But at any rate his inner life had been intense and passionate , and his outer life had led him to a broader outlook upon men ...
... hand or Shelley on the other . His intuitions were not so subtle and fine as those of Keats or of Coleridge . But at any rate his inner life had been intense and passionate , and his outer life had led him to a broader outlook upon men ...
Стр. xvii
... hands , Their fields manured by gore of other lands ; Safe in their barns , these Sabine tillers sent Their brethren out to battle . Why ? For rent ! Year after year they voted cent . per cent . , Blood , sweat , and tear - wrung ...
... hands , Their fields manured by gore of other lands ; Safe in their barns , these Sabine tillers sent Their brethren out to battle . Why ? For rent ! Year after year they voted cent . per cent . , Blood , sweat , and tear - wrung ...
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Abbot Æschylus Alps Astarte Athens beauty behold beneath blood breast breath brow Byron Byron's note Cain canto Capitoline hill Childe Harold Chillon clouds Countess Guiccioli dark death deep Don Juan doth dread dream earth edition eternal eyes fair fame Faust feel gaze Giaour glory grave Greece hath heart heaven Hell hour human immortal Jungfrau lake land lines living Lord Lord Byron Lucifer lyric Manfred Manfred's Mazeppa mind mortal mountains nature ne'er never night o'er ocean pass'd passage passion Pausanias perhaps poem poet poet's poetic poetry Prisoner of Chillon rhyme rock sail Samian wine scene seem'd Shelley Shipwreck shore Siege of Corinth smile song soul spirit stanzas star story suggested sweet tears thee thine things thought Twas Venice verse waters wave wild wind Witch woes words Wordsworth written youth ΙΟ
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Стр. 153 - 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. 153 - Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests: in all time, Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm. Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving; — boundless, endless, and sublime; The image of eternity, the throne Of the Invisible: even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
Стр. 303 - My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone! The fire that on my bosom preys Is lone as some volcanic isle; No torch is kindled at its blaze — A funeral pile. The hope, the fear, the jealous care, The exalted portion of the pain And power of love, I cannot share, But wear the chain.
Стр. 128 - There is the moral of all human tales; 'Tis but the same rehearsal of the past, First Freedom, and then Glory — when that fails, Wealth, vice, corruption, — barbarism at last. And History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page...
Стр. 263 - The isles of Greece ! the isles of Greece ! "Where burning Sappho loved and sung, — Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and 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'
Стр. 264 - And where are they? and where art thou, My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now, The heroic bosom beats no more ! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine?
Стр. 246 - Louder than the loud ocean, like a crash Of echoing thunder; and then all was hush'd, Save the wild wind and the remorseless dash Of billows; but at intervals there gush'd, Accompanied with a convulsive splash, A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry Of some strong swimmer in his agony.
Стр. 296 - She walks in beauty like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies ; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes ; Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
Стр. 266 - But words are things ; and a small drop of ink, Falling, like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions think...
Стр. 291 - These scenes, their story not unknown, Arise, and make again your own; Snatch from the ashes of your sires The embers of their former fires; And he who in the strife expires Will add to theirs a name of fear That Tyranny shall quake to hear...