The Prisoner of Chillon |
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The Prisoner of Chillon, and Other Poems, Том 1 George Gordon Byron Baron Byron Полный просмотр - 1816 |
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beautiful bird blood blue Bonnivard breath brother brow change came o'er CHILLON cold College darkness death desolate died dread dream dungeon dwell earth eternal face fair fearful feel feet fell felt fetters floor flow FRIENDS Geneve gentle grave grew grief hand hath heard heart heavy her's hill homme hope hour human kind knew lake less Liberty LIBRARY light living look marks mind mountain names natural never night NOTES o'er the spirit ocean other's past PRISONER pure qu'il avoit quiet race rest round seem'd seen shadow shore side sight single smile soul sound steed steps stood tears thee things thou thought thousand took traced trees twas walls wanderer wave wide wild winds wings youth
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Стр. 16 - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind.
Стр. 14 - A small green isle, it seem'd no more, Scarce broader than my dungeon floor, But in it there were three tall trees, And o'er it blew the mountain breeze, And by it there were waters flowing, And on it there were young flowers growing Of gentle breath and hue.
Стр. 14 - It might be months, or years, or days, I kept no count — I took no note, I had no hope my eyes to raise, And clear them of their dreary mote...
Стр. 17 - I HAD a dream, which was not all a dream. The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air...
Стр. 13 - I saw them — and they were the same, They were not changed like me in frame; I saw their thousand years of snow On high — their wide long lake below. And the blue Rhone in fullest flow...
Стр. 29 - Though slandered, thou never couldst shake,— Though trusted, thou didst not disclaim me. Though parted, it was not to fly. Though watchful, 'twas not to defame me, Nor mute, that the world might belie.
Стр. 4 - And in each pillar there is a ring, And in each ring there is a chain; That iron is a cankering thing, For in these limbs its teeth remain. With marks that will not wear...
Стр. 5 - As they of yore were wont to be: It might be fancy, but to me They never sounded like our own.
Стр. 15 - With spiders I had friendship made, And watched them in their sullen trade; Had seen the mice by moonlight play — And why should I feel less than they? We were all inmates of one place, And I, the monarch of each race, Had power to kill; yet, strange to tell! In quiet we had learned to dwell. My very chains and I grew friends, So much a long communion tends To make us what we are: — even I Regained my freedom with a sigh.
Стр. 23 - To live within himself: she was his life, The ocean to the river of his thoughts, Which terminated all; upon a tone, A touch of hers, his blood would ebb and flow, And his cheek change tempestuously — his heart Unknowing of its cause of agony.