Poetry of Byron: Chosen and ArrangedMacmillan and Company, 1892 - 276 páginas |
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Página 21
... leaves must drop away : And yet it were a greater grief To watch it withering , leaf by leaf , Than see it pluck'd to - day ; Since earthly eye but ill can bear To trace the change to foul from fair . I know not if I could have borne To ...
... leaves must drop away : And yet it were a greater grief To watch it withering , leaf by leaf , Than see it pluck'd to - day ; Since earthly eye but ill can bear To trace the change to foul from fair . I know not if I could have borne To ...
Página 25
... leaves around the ruin'd turret wreath , All green and wildly fresh without , but worn and grey beneath . Oh could I feel as I have felt , —or be what I have been , Or weep as I could once have wept , o'er many a vanish'd scene ; As ...
... leaves around the ruin'd turret wreath , All green and wildly fresh without , but worn and grey beneath . Oh could I feel as I have felt , —or be what I have been , Or weep as I could once have wept , o'er many a vanish'd scene ; As ...
Página 47
... leaves , the earliest of the year ; And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom : And oft by yon blue gushing stream Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head , And feed deep thought with many a dream , And lingering pause and lightly tread ...
... leaves , the earliest of the year ; And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom : And oft by yon blue gushing stream Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head , And feed deep thought with many a dream , And lingering pause and lightly tread ...
Página 50
... leaves of the forest when Summer is green , That host with their banners at sunset were seen ; Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown , That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown . For the Angel of Death spread his ...
... leaves of the forest when Summer is green , That host with their banners at sunset were seen ; Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown , That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown . For the Angel of Death spread his ...
Página 64
... feel , and know without repair , hath taught A bitter lesson ; but it leaves me free : I have not vilely found , nor basely sought , They made an Exile - not a slave of me . THE ISLES OF GREECE . ( SONG OF A Greek 64 POETRY OF BYRON .
... feel , and know without repair , hath taught A bitter lesson ; but it leaves me free : I have not vilely found , nor basely sought , They made an Exile - not a slave of me . THE ISLES OF GREECE . ( SONG OF A Greek 64 POETRY OF BYRON .
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Términos y frases comunes
Adah Arqua art thou ASTARTE beautiful behold beneath blood blue breast breath BRIDE OF ABYDOS brow Byron Cain Canto CHAMOIS cheek CHILDE HAROLD clime clouds cold dare dark dead death deep didst DON JUAN dost dread dream dwell earth eyes F. T. PALGRAVE fair Farewell fear feel foam foes gaze gentle Giaour glory Goethe grave Greece hand hath heart heaven heaving Hellespont hour immortal light limbs live lone look look'd Lucifer MANFRED MATTHEW ARNOLD mortal mountains ne'er never night o'er ocean PARISINA pass'd poet poetry rock roll'd rose round Samian wine seem'd shore SIEGE OF CORINTH sigh slave smile soul spirit Stanzas stars steed stood sweet tears thee thine things thou art thou hast thought throne tomb turn'd twas Twere voice waters wave weep wild wind Wordsworth youth
Pasajes populares
Página 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.
Página 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.
Página 91 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather'd then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell; But hush!
Página 111 - I see before me the gladiator lie : He leans upon his hand ; his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his drooped head sinks gradually low ; And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder-shower ; and now The arena swims around him ; he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won.
Página 92 - 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...
Página 66 - And where are they? and where art thou, My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now, The heroic bosom beats no more ! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine?
Página 112 - 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.
Página 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 1 with stern delights should e'er have been so moved.
Página 66 - Must we but blush? — Our fathers bled. Earth ! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead ! Of the three hundred grant but three, To make a new Thermopylae 1 What, silent still?
Página 21 - Yet did I love thee to the last As fervently as thou, Who didst not change through all the past, And canst not alter now. The love where Death has set his seal, Nor age can chill, nor rival steal, Nor falsehood disavow: And, what were worse, thou canst not see Or wrong, or change, or fault in me.