Poetry of ByronMacmillan and Company, 1881 - Всего страниц: 276 |
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Стр. 29
... heaving plain Of ocean , or the stars , mingle , and not in vain . And thus I am absorb'd , and this is life ; I look upon the peopled desert past , As on a place of agony and strife , Where , for some sin , to sorrow I was cast , To ...
... heaving plain Of ocean , or the stars , mingle , and not in vain . And thus I am absorb'd , and this is life ; I look upon the peopled desert past , As on a place of agony and strife , Where , for some sin , to sorrow I was cast , To ...
Стр. 32
... heave around me ; and on high The winds lift up their voices : I depart , Whither I know not ; but the hour's gone by , When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye . Once more upon the waters ! yet once more ! And the ...
... heave around me ; and on high The winds lift up their voices : I depart , Whither I know not ; but the hour's gone by , When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye . Once more upon the waters ! yet once more ! And the ...
Стр. 45
... 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 . And I ...
... 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 . And I ...
Стр. 50
... heaved , and for ever grew still ! And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide , But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride ; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf , And cold as the spray of the rock ...
... heaved , and for ever grew still ! And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide , But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride ; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf , And cold as the spray of the rock ...
Стр. 73
... Our bubbles ; as the old burst , new emerge , Lash'd from the foam of ages ; while the graves Of empires heave but like some passing waves . II . DESCRIPTIVE AND NARRATIVE GREECE . ( THE CORSAIR PERSONAL , LYRIC , AND ELEGIAC . 73 Life.
... Our bubbles ; as the old burst , new emerge , Lash'd from the foam of ages ; while the graves Of empires heave but like some passing waves . II . DESCRIPTIVE AND NARRATIVE GREECE . ( THE CORSAIR PERSONAL , LYRIC , AND ELEGIAC . 73 Life.
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Adah Arqua art thou ASTARTE bear beautiful behold beneath blood blue breast breath brow Byron Cain Canto charm cheek CHILDE HAROLD clime clouds cold Crown 8vo dare dark dead death deep DON JUAN dost dread dream dwell earth eyes fcap fear feel foam gaze gentle Giaour glory Goethe grave hand hath heart heaven heaving hour immortal isle Leopardi light limbs live lone look look'd Lucifer MANFRED MATTHEW ARNOLD mortal mountains ne'er never night o'er PARISINA pass'd Philistinism Poems poet poetic poetry roll'd rose round Samian wine seem'd seen shore SIEGE OF CORINTH sigh slave smile soul spirit Stanzas star steed stood Stopford Brooke sweet tears thee thine things thou art thou hast thought throne tomb turn'd twas Twere Venice voice waters wave weep wild wind Wordsworth youth
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Стр. 95 - The sky is changed ! — and such a change ! Oh night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman ! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder ! Not from one lone cloud, But every mountain now hath found a tongue, And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud...
Стр. 65 - The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece ! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung ! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set.
Стр. 50 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Стр. 44 - 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, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined and unknown.
Стр. 93 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, — alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass...
Стр. xxviii - 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. 94 - Clear, placid Leman ! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction : once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved.
Стр. 104 - Fill'd with the face of heaven, which, from afar Comes down upon the waters, all its hues, From the rich sunset to the rising star, Their magical variety diffuse ; And now they change ; a paler shadow strews Its mantle o'er the mountains; parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till — 'tis gone — and all is gray.
Стр. xxiv - What, in ill thoughts again ? Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither : Ripeness is all : Come on.
Стр. 253 - A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, Dirty and dusky, but as wide as eye Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping In sight, then lost amidst the forestry Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; A huge, dun cupola, like a foolscap crown On a fool's head - and there is London Town!