Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A RomauntG.S. Appleton, 1851 - Всего страниц: 287 |
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Стр. 14
... fame , And had been glorious in another day : But one sad losel soils a name for aye , However mighty in the olden time ; Nor all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay , Nor florid prose , nor honey'd lies of rhyme Can blazon evil deeds ...
... fame , And had been glorious in another day : But one sad losel soils a name for aye , However mighty in the olden time ; Nor all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay , Nor florid prose , nor honey'd lies of rhyme Can blazon evil deeds ...
Стр. 25
... fame , By focs in fight o'erthrown , yet victors here , Where Scorn her finger points through many a coming year ? XXVII . So deem'd the Childe , as o'er the mountains he Did take his way in solitary guise : Sweet was the scene , yet ...
... fame , By focs in fight o'erthrown , yet victors here , Where Scorn her finger points through many a coming year ? XXVII . So deem'd the Childe , as o'er the mountains he Did take his way in solitary guise : Sweet was the scene , yet ...
Стр. 31
... fame : Fame that will scarce re - animate their clay , Though thousands fall to deck some single name . In sooth ' twere sad to thwart their noble aim Who strike , blest hirelings for their country's good , And die , tha ' iving might ...
... fame : Fame that will scarce re - animate their clay , Though thousands fall to deck some single name . In sooth ' twere sad to thwart their noble aim Who strike , blest hirelings for their country's good , And die , tha ' iving might ...
Стр. 59
... Fame : but Britons rarely swerve From law , however stern , which tends their strength to nerve . XX . Blow swiftly blow , thou keel - compelling gale ! Till the broad sun withdraws his lessening ray ; Then must the pennant - bearer ...
... Fame : but Britons rarely swerve From law , however stern , which tends their strength to nerve . XX . Blow swiftly blow , thou keel - compelling gale ! Till the broad sun withdraws his lessening ray ; Then must the pennant - bearer ...
Стр. 85
... fame The Battle - field , where Persia's victim horde First bow'd beneath the brunt of Hellas ' sword , As on the morn to distant Glory dear , When Marathon became a magic word ; Which utter'd , to the hearer's eye appear The camp , the ...
... fame The Battle - field , where Persia's victim horde First bow'd beneath the brunt of Hellas ' sword , As on the morn to distant Glory dear , When Marathon became a magic word ; Which utter'd , to the hearer's eye appear The camp , the ...
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Albania Ali Pacha amidst amongst ancient Ariosto Arqua Athens beauty behold beneath blood Boccaccio bosom breast breath brow Cæsar CANTO Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE Chioza church Cicero Comitium dark death deem'd deep doth dust dwell earth edit Egeria fair fall fame fate feel Ficus Ruminalis gaze glory gondoliers Greece Greek hand hath heart Heaven hills honour hope hour immortal Italian Italy Julius Cæsar lake land less light live Lord mind mortal mountains Nardini ne'er never o'er once pass pass'd passion Petrarch plain poet Pouqueville rock Roman Rome ruin scatter'd scene seems seen shore sigh smile song soul spirit spot STANZA Storia stream Suetonius Tasso tears temple thee thine things thou thought throne tomb triumph Turks tyrants valley Venetians Venice walls waves winds woes wolf words youth καὶ
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Стр. 121 - And this is in the night. — Most glorious night ! Thou wert not sent for slumber ! let me be A sharer in thy fierce and far delight, — A portion of the tempest and of thee ! How the lit lake shines a phosphoric sea, And the big rain comes dancing to the earth ! And now again 'tis black, — and now the glee Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain-mirth, As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth.
Стр. 120 - All heaven and earth are still— though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most; And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep...
Стр. 119 - Ye stars ! which are the poetry of heaven ! If in your bright leaves we would read the fate Of men and empires, — 'tis to be forgiven, That in our aspirations to be great, Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, And claim a kindred with you ; for ye are A beauty and a mystery, and create In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star.
Стр. 198 - Ye Elements ! — in whose ennobling stir I feel myself exalted — Can ye not Accord me such a being? Do I err In deeming such inhabit many a spot ? Though with them to converse can rarely be our lot.
Стр. 122 - Could I embody and unbosom now That which is most within me, — could I wreak My thoughts upon expression, and thus throw Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings, strong or weak, All that I would have sought, and all I seek, Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe— into one word, And that one word were Lightning, I would speak ; But as it is, I live and die unheard, With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword.
Стр. 91 - Welcome to their roar! Swift be their guidance, wheresoe'er it lead !' Though the strain'd mast should quiver as a reed, And the rent canvas fluttering strew the gale, Still must I on : for I am as a weed, Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail.
Стр. 100 - Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms, — the day Battle's magnificently stern array! The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent The earth is covered thick with other clay, Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, Rider and horse, — friend, foe, — in one red burial blent!
Стр. 179 - Of its own beauty is the mind diseased, And fevers into false creation : — where, Where are the forms the sculptor's soul hath seized ? In him alone. Can Nature show so fair...
Стр. 162 - 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, LXX.
Стр. 184 - But I have lived, and have not lived in vain ; My mind may lose its force, my blood its fire; And my frame perish even in conquering pain, But there is that within me which shall tire Torture and Time, and breathe when I expire...