The corsair, a tale [in verse.].John Murray, Albemarle-street., 1818 - 114 páginas |
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Página 5
... feel anxious to avail myself of this latest and only opportunity of adorning my pages with a name , consecrated by unshaken public principle , and the most undoubted and various talents . While Ireland ranks you among the firmest of her ...
... feel anxious to avail myself of this latest and only opportunity of adorning my pages with a name , consecrated by unshaken public principle , and the most undoubted and various talents . While Ireland ranks you among the firmest of her ...
Página 6
... feeling of her daughters , may there be found ; and Collins , when he denominated his Oriental his Irish Eclogues , was not aware how true , at least , was a part of his parallel . Your imagination will create a warmer sun , and less ...
... feeling of her daughters , may there be found ; and Collins , when he denominated his Oriental his Irish Eclogues , was not aware how true , at least , was a part of his parallel . Your imagination will create a warmer sun , and less ...
Página 12
... feel → 20 " Feel - to the rising bosom's inmost core , " Its hope awaken and its spirit soar ? " No dread of death - if with us die our foes- " Save that it seems even duller than repose : " Come when it will - we snatch the life of ...
... feel → 20 " Feel - to the rising bosom's inmost core , " Its hope awaken and its spirit soar ? " No dread of death - if with us die our foes- " Save that it seems even duller than repose : " Come when it will - we snatch the life of ...
Página 23
... feel remorse , And thought the voice of wrath a sacred call , To pay the injuries of some on all . 265 He knew ... feeling would not yet depart ; Oft could he sneer at others as beguiled By passions worthy of a fool or child ; 285 Yet ...
... feel remorse , And thought the voice of wrath a sacred call , To pay the injuries of some on all . 265 He knew ... feeling would not yet depart ; Oft could he sneer at others as beguiled By passions worthy of a fool or child ; 285 Yet ...
Página 29
... feeling which thou dost condemn , My very love to thee is hate to them , " So closely mingling here , that disentwined , " I cease to love thee when I love mankind : " Yet dread not this - the proof of all the past " Assures the future ...
... feeling which thou dost condemn , My very love to thee is hate to them , " So closely mingling here , that disentwined , " I cease to love thee when I love mankind : " Yet dread not this - the proof of all the past " Assures the future ...
Otras ediciones - Ver todo
The Corsair, a Tale [In Verse.] George Gordon N Byron (6th Baron ) No hay ninguna vista previa disponible - 2018 |
The Corsair, A Tale [in Verse.] George Gordon N Byron (6th Baron ) No hay ninguna vista previa disponible - 2019 |
The Corsair, a Tale [In Verse.] George Gordon N Byron (6th Baron ) No hay ninguna vista previa disponible - 2015 |
Términos y frases comunes
accents ALBEMARLE STREET anchor'd Anselmo's arms band bark bear beheld Blackbourne blood blow boat bosom breast breath breeze brow CANTO Carthage Cephisus chain cheek chief Conrad CORSAIR dare dark death deeds deep Dervise despair doom dread fair fate fear feel fetter'd flash'd foes galleys gaze Genevra gentler Giaour glance greet grief guard Gulnare hand Haram hast hate hath heard heart heaven heroic couplet hope hour isle light lips lonely look Louisiana love in vain lute Medora minaret mute ne'er night Note o'er once Orleans Pacha pain pangs pass'd passion perchance poniard prow rage reach'd rest sabre's sail scarce seek seem'd Seyd Seyd's shore silent sinking slave slumber smile snatch'd soft soothe soul spare spirit stern strife sunk tears thee Theseus thine thought tidings toil turn'd Twas Twill waves wert Whate'er wild wind woman's words
Pasajes populares
Página 65 - Salamis! Their azure arches through the long expanse More deeply purpled meet his mellowing glance, And tenderest tints, along their summits driven, Mark his gay course, and own the hues of heaven; Till, darkly shaded from the land and deep, Behind his Delphian cliff he sinks to sleep On such an eye, his palest beam he cast, When - Athens!
Página 33 - Big, bright, and fast, unknown to her they fell ; But still her lips refused to send — " Farewell ! " For in that word, that fatal word, howe'er We promise, hope, believe, there breathes despair.
Página 11 - Ours the wild life in tumult still to range From toil to rest, and joy in every change. Oh, who can tell? not thou, luxurious slave! Whose soul would sicken o'er the heaving wave; Not thou, vain lord of wantonness and ease!
Página 11 - O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, Survey our empire, and behold our home! These are our realms, no limits to their sway Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey. Ours the wild life in tumult still to range From toil to rest, and joy in every change.
Página 15 - How gloriously her gallant course she goes! Her white wings flying — never from her foes — She walks the waters like a thing of life, And seems to dare the elements to strife.
Página 114 - These lips are mute, these eyes are dry; But in my breast and in my brain, Awake the pangs that pass not by, The thought that ne'er shall sleep again. My soul nor deigns nor dares complain, Though grief and passion there rebel...
Página 65 - Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run, Along Morea's hills the setting sun: Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright, But one unclouded blaze of living light! O'er the hush'd deep the yellow beam he throws Gilds the green wave, that trembles as it glows.
Página 19 - And tints each swarthy cheek with sallower hue; Still sways their souls with that commanding art That dazzles, leads, yet chills the vulgar heart. What is that spell, that thus his lawless train Confess and envy, yet oppose in vain? What should it be, that thus their faith can bind? The power of Thought - the magic of the Mind!
Página 112 - WHEN some proud son of man returns to earth, Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth, The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe, And storied urns record who rests below ; When all is done, upon the tomb is seen, Not what he was, but what he should have been : But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend, The first to welcome, foremost to defend, Whose honest heart is still his master's own, Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone...
Página 19 - That man of loneliness and mystery Scarce seen to smile, and seldom heard to sigh; Whose name appals the fiercest of his crew, And tints each swarthy cheek with sallower hue; Still sways their souls with that commanding art That dazzles, leads, yet chills the vulgar heart.