Byron's Childe Harold, Cantos III and IV: The Prisoner of Chillon, and Other PoemsH. Holt, 1913 - Всего страниц: 232 |
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Стр. 2
... soul's haunted cell . VI ' Tis to create , and in creating live A being more intense , that we endow With form our fancy , gaining as we give The life we image , even as I do now . What am I ? Nothing : but not so art thou , Soul of my ...
... soul's haunted cell . VI ' Tis to create , and in creating live A being more intense , that we endow With form our fancy , gaining as we give The life we image , even as I do now . What am I ? Nothing : but not so art thou , Soul of my ...
Стр. 3
... soul and aspect as in age : years steal Fire from the mind as vigor from the limb ; And life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim . IX His had been quaff'd too quickly , and he found The dregs were wormwood ; but he fill'd again ...
... soul and aspect as in age : years steal Fire from the mind as vigor from the limb ; And life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim . IX His had been quaff'd too quickly , and he found The dregs were wormwood ; but he fill'd again ...
Стр. 4
... soul was quell'd In youth by his own thoughts ; still uncompell'd , He would not yield dominion of his mind To spirits against whom his own rebell'd ; Proud though in desolation ; which could find A life within itself , to breathe ...
... soul was quell'd In youth by his own thoughts ; still uncompell'd , He would not yield dominion of his mind To spirits against whom his own rebell'd ; Proud though in desolation ; which could find A life within itself , to breathe ...
Стр. 5
... up bird will beat His breast and beak against his wiry dome Till the blood tinge his plumage , so the heat Of his impeded soul would through his bosom eat . XVI Self - exiled Harold wanders forth again , With Childe Harold's Pilgrimage 5.
... up bird will beat His breast and beak against his wiry dome Till the blood tinge his plumage , so the heat Of his impeded soul would through his bosom eat . XVI Self - exiled Harold wanders forth again , With Childe Harold's Pilgrimage 5.
Стр. 13
... soul hath brook'd the turning tide With that untaught innate philosophy , Which , be it wisdom , coldness , or deep pride , Is gall and wormwood to an enemy . When the whole host of hatred stood hard by , To watch and mock thee ...
... soul hath brook'd the turning tide With that untaught innate philosophy , Which , be it wisdom , coldness , or deep pride , Is gall and wormwood to an enemy . When the whole host of hatred stood hard by , To watch and mock thee ...
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Byron's Childe Harold, Cantos III and IV: The Prisoner of Chillon, and Other ... George Gordon Byron Недоступно для просмотра - 2018 |
Byron's Childe Harold, Cantos III and IV: The Prisoner of Chillon, and Other ... George Gordon Byron Недоступно для просмотра - 2017 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
Alps Arqua Augusta Bards battle beauty beneath blood breast breath bright brow Byron's note Cæsar Canto canto of Childe Castle of Chillon cents Childe Harold Childe Harold's Pilgrimage Clarens clouds Coliseum dark daughter dead death deep desolate dungeon dust earth Edited empires Epistle to Augusta eyes fame fate feeling Florence foes gaze Giaour glory grave Greece hath heart heaven horse human immortal lake Lake Geneva liberty lines lived Lord Byron lyric Mazeppa mind mortal mountains Napoleon nature never night o'er ocean passage passion Petrarch poem poet poetry Prisoner of Chillon Rhine rime rock Roman Rome ruin Samian wine scene seem'd Shelley shore Siege of Corinth smile soul spirit stanzas stars story sweet Tasso tears thee thine things thou thought throne tomb tree twas tyrant Venice walls Waterloo waves wild wind woes Wordsworth youth
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Стр. 8 - Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
Стр. 8 - 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. 19 - The castled crag of Drachenfels("> Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, Whose breast of waters broadly swells Between the banks which bear the vine, And hills all rich with blossom'd trees, And fields which promise corn and wine, And scatter'd cities crowning these, Whose far white walls along them shine, Have strew'da scene, which I should see With double joy wert thou with me ! 2.
Стр. 179 - They parted— ne'er to meet again! But never either found another To free the hollow heart from paining — They stood aloof, the scars remaining, Like cliffs which had been rent asunder; A dreary sea now flows between;— But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, Shall wholly do away, I ween, The marks of that which once hath been.
Стр. 162 - The mountains look on Marathon, And Marathon looks on the sea. And musing there an hour alone, I dreamed that Greece might still be free, For standing on the Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave.
Стр. 149 - And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord...
Стр. 36 - The morn is up again, the dewy morn, With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom, Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn, And living as if earth contain'd no tomb, — And glowing into day: we may resume The march of our existence: and thus I, Still on thy shores, fair Leman!
Стр. 109 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. 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. 1 - 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.
Стр. 165 - Place me on Sunium's marbled steep, Where nothing, save the waves and I, May hear our mutual murmurs sweep; There, swan-like, let me sing and die: A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine— Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!