Byron's Childe Harold (canto IV): Prisoner of Chillon and Other SelectionsAmerican Book Company, 1911 - Всего страниц: 170 |
Результаты поиска по книге
Результаты 1 – 5 из 23
Стр. 23
... dead , - Though hard I strove , but strove in vain , To rend and gnash my bonds in twain . He died , and they unlocked his chain , And scooped for him a shallow grave Even from the cold earth of our cave . I begged them as a boon to lay ...
... dead , - Though hard I strove , but strove in vain , To rend and gnash my bonds in twain . He died , and they unlocked his chain , And scooped for him a shallow grave Even from the cold earth of our cave . I begged them as a boon to lay ...
Стр. 33
... dead from exposure , exhaustion and hunger . Some peasants rescued him and he remained with them for a long time and distinguished himself in several raids against the Tartars . The superiority of his education caused him to be treated ...
... dead from exposure , exhaustion and hunger . Some peasants rescued him and he remained with them for a long time and distinguished himself in several raids against the Tartars . The superiority of his education caused him to be treated ...
Стр. 48
... thick with shrubs more young and green , Luxuriant with their annual leaves , Ere strown by those autumnal eves That nip the forest's foliage dead , 440 Discolor'd with a lifeless red , Which stands thereon like 48 LORD BYRON .
... thick with shrubs more young and green , Luxuriant with their annual leaves , Ere strown by those autumnal eves That nip the forest's foliage dead , 440 Discolor'd with a lifeless red , Which stands thereon like 48 LORD BYRON .
Стр. 56
... dead and stiffening wretch , Whose lifeless limbs beneath me stretch , Relieved from that unwonted weight , From whence I could not extricate Nor him nor me - and there we lay , The dying on the dead ! I little deem'd another day 680 ...
... dead and stiffening wretch , Whose lifeless limbs beneath me stretch , Relieved from that unwonted weight , From whence I could not extricate Nor him nor me - and there we lay , The dying on the dead ! I little deem'd another day 680 ...
Стр. 78
... Dead Sea's shore , 3 All ashes to the taste : Did man compute Existence by enjoyment , and count o'er 305 Such hours ' gainst years of life , —say , would he name three- score ? 1 Observe the metaphors in Stanza XXXII . , and how they ...
... Dead Sea's shore , 3 All ashes to the taste : Did man compute Existence by enjoyment , and count o'er 305 Such hours ' gainst years of life , —say , would he name three- score ? 1 Observe the metaphors in Stanza XXXII . , and how they ...
Другие издания - Просмотреть все
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
Bards battle of Pultowa beauty beheld beneath blood Boccaccio born breast breath bright brow Byron Cæsar Canto chain Childe Harold Childe Harold's Pilgrimage clay cloud cold Cossack courser dark dead death deemed deep died divine dost doth dread dungeon dust dwell earth Egeria eternal eyes fame feel fettered foam gaze glory grave Greece Greek hath heart heaven Hetman hope horse hour immortal Italy king lake limbs literary Lord Mazeppa mighty mind monarch mother mountain Nature's Newstead Abbey night o'er ocean once pain Perchance Petrarch poem poet poetry Prisoner of Chillon proud Roman Rome round ruin Samian wine shore sigh sire skies smile song soul spirit stanzas star steed sword tears thee thine things thou thought thousand throne tomb TOZER tree twas tyrant Ukraine Venice walls waters waves wild wind woes youth ΙΟ
Популярные отрывки
Стр. 155 - Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave. A king sate on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis; And ships by thousands lay below, And men in nations; — all were his! He counted them at break of day, And when the sun set, where were they?
Стр. 74 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet.— But hark!
Стр. 151 - 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. 151 - 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.
Стр. 75 - And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips - 'The foe! they come! they come!
Стр. 84 - I STOOD in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, A palace and a prison on each hand ; I saw from out the wave her structures rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand : A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles, Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles...
Стр. 150 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed...
Стр. 137 - Were with his heart, and that was far away. He recked not of the life he lost, nor prize; But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother, — he, their sire, Butchered to make a Roman holiday!
Стр. 17 - Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar; for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard! — May none those marks efface! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
Стр. 152 - And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight : and if the freshening sea Made them a terror — '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.