The works, of ... lord Byron, Том 7 |
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Стр. 22
Great as thou art , yet paralleld by those , Thy countrymen , before thee born to
shine , The Bards of Hell and Chivalry : first rose The Tuscan father ' s comedy
divine ; Then , not unequal to the Florentine , The southern Scott , the minstrel
who ...
Great as thou art , yet paralleld by those , Thy countrymen , before thee born to
shine , The Bards of Hell and Chivalry : first rose The Tuscan father ' s comedy
divine ; Then , not unequal to the Florentine , The southern Scott , the minstrel
who ...
Стр. 52
And didst thou not , thy breast to his replying , Blend a celestial with a human
heart ; And Love , which dies as it was born , in sighing , Share with immortal
transports ? could thine art Make them indeed immortal , and impart The purity of
...
And didst thou not , thy breast to his replying , Blend a celestial with a human
heart ; And Love , which dies as it was born , in sighing , Share with immortal
transports ? could thine art Make them indeed immortal , and impart The purity of
...
Стр. 96
It seems , then , first , that Laura was born , lived , died , and was buried , not in
Avignon , but in the country . The fountairis of the Sorga , the thickets of Cabrieres
' may resume their pretensions , and the exploded de la Bastiė again be heard ...
It seems , then , first , that Laura was born , lived , died , and was buried , not in
Avignon , but in the country . The fountairis of the Sorga , the thickets of Cabrieres
' may resume their pretensions , and the exploded de la Bastiė again be heard ...
Стр. 100
The injury is not forgotten , but has served to identify the poet with the country
where he was born , but where he would not live , A peasant boy of Arquà being
asked who Petrarch was , replied , « that the people of the parsonage knew all ...
The injury is not forgotten , but has served to identify the poet with the country
where he was born , but where he would not live , A peasant boy of Arquà being
asked who Petrarch was , replied , « that the people of the parsonage knew all ...
Стр. 105
The mother of Ariosto was of Reggio , and the house in which he was born is
carefully distinguished by a tablet with these words : « Qui nacque Ludovico
Ariosto il giorno 8 di Settembre dell ' anno 1474 . » But the Ferrarese make light
of the ...
The mother of Ariosto was of Reggio , and the house in which he was born is
carefully distinguished by a tablet with these words : « Qui nacque Ludovico
Ariosto il giorno 8 di Settembre dell ' anno 1474 . » But the Ferrarese make light
of the ...
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The Works of Lord Byron: With an Introduction and Bibliography George Gordon Byron Ограниченный просмотр - 1994 |
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amongst ancient appeared beauty believe blood Boccaccio born called Canto changed Childe church Cicero criticism crown dead death deep dust earth edit Emperor empire eyes fact fall feel Florence former glory hand hath heart hills honour hope horses human hundred immortal inscription Italian Italy lake least leaves less letter light live look Mark memory mind mortal mountains Nature never o'er object once pass perhaps person Petrarch plain poet present raised record rise Roman Rome round ruin says seems seen shore side soul stand Stanza statue Storia stream Tasso temple thee thine things thou thought tomb traveller tree turn valley Venetians Venice voice walls waters whole wolf writer
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Стр. 76 - 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.
Стр. 75 - Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since ; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage ; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts : — not so thou, Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play — Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow — Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
Стр. 7 - 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. 60 - He heard it, but he heeded not— his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away; He reck'd 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, Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday— All this rush'd with his blood— Shall he expire And unavenged? Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire!
Стр. 7 - She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean, Rising with her tiara of proud towers At airy distance, with majestic motion, A ruler of the waters and their powers...
Стр. 33 - The roar of waters ! — from the headlong height Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice The fall of waters ! rapid as the light The flashing mass foams shaking the abyss ; The hell of waters ! where they howl and hiss. And boil in endless torture ; while the sweat Of their great agony, wrung out from this Their Phlegethon, curls round the rocks of jet That gird the gulf around, in pitiless horror set...
Стр. 8 - In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more, And silent rows the songless gondolier ; Her palaces are crumbling to the shore, And music meets not always now the ear : Those days are gone — but Beauty still is here. States fall, arts fade — but Nature doth not die, Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear, The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy...
Стр. 75 - The armaments which thunder-strike 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. 36 - 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!
Стр. 60 - He reck'd 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, Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday — All this rush'd with his blood, — Shall he expire, And unavenged ? — Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire ! CXLII.
Библиографические данные
| Название | The works, of ... lord Byron, Том 7 The works, of ... lord Byron, George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) |
| Автор | George Gordon N. Byron (6th baron.) |
| Опубликована: | 1819 |
| Владелец оригинала: | Оксфордский университет |
| Оцифровано | 20 июн 2007 |
| Экспорт цитаты | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |