Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A RomauntMacmillan, 1899 - 282 páginas |
Dentro del libro
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Página 6
... that mote to luxury invite , Without a sigh he left , to cross the brine , And traverse Paynim shores , and pass Earth's central line . 95 90 85 89 75 XII The sails were filled , and fair the light 6 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE.
... that mote to luxury invite , Without a sigh he left , to cross the brine , And traverse Paynim shores , and pass Earth's central line . 95 90 85 89 75 XII The sails were filled , and fair the light 6 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE.
Página 7
... shores receded from his sight , Thus to the elements he poured his last ' Good Night . ' I ́ ADIEU , adieu ! my native shore ° Fades o'er the waters blue ; The night - winds sigh , the breakers roar , And shrieks the wild sea - mew ...
... shores receded from his sight , Thus to the elements he poured his last ' Good Night . ' I ́ ADIEU , adieu ! my native shore ° Fades o'er the waters blue ; The night - winds sigh , the breakers roar , And shrieks the wild sea - mew ...
Página 11
... shores descried make every bosom gay , And Cintra's mountain greets them on their way , And Tagus dashing onward to the deep , His fabled golden tribute bent to pay ; And soon on board the Lusian pilots leap , And steer ' twixt fertile ...
... shores descried make every bosom gay , And Cintra's mountain greets them on their way , And Tagus dashing onward to the deep , His fabled golden tribute bent to pay ; And soon on board the Lusian pilots leap , And steer ' twixt fertile ...
Página 18
... shore ? O Red gleamed the cross , and waned the crescent pale , While Afric's echoes thrilled with Moorish matrons ' wail . 390 395 XXXVI Teems not each ditty with the glorious tale ? Ah ! such , alas ! the hero's amplest fate ! When ...
... shore ? O Red gleamed the cross , and waned the crescent pale , While Afric's echoes thrilled with Moorish matrons ' wail . 390 395 XXXVI Teems not each ditty with the glorious tale ? Ah ! such , alas ! the hero's amplest fate ! When ...
Página 29
... shore ? Lo ! it is sacred to a solemn feast : Hark ! heard you not the forest - monarch's roar ? Crashing the lance , he snuffs the spouting gore Of man and steed , o'erthrown beneath his horn ; The thronged arena shakes with shouts for ...
... shore ? Lo ! it is sacred to a solemn feast : Hark ! heard you not the forest - monarch's roar ? Crashing the lance , he snuffs the spouting gore Of man and steed , o'erthrown beneath his horn ; The thronged arena shakes with shouts for ...
Términos y frases comunes
Acarnania ancient Arqua Athens bard beauty behold beneath blood blue bosom breast breath brow Byron says Canto Charles Kingsley Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE clime dark dead death deemed deep doth dream dust earth EDWARD DOWDEN England English fair fame fate feel foes gaze Giaour glorious glory glow Greece hand hath heart heaven hills hope hour hyæna immortal Italy John Morley lake land live lone look Lord mighty Milton mind mingling mortal mother mountains Napoleon Nature ne'er never Newstead Newstead Abbey night o'er once passion Petrarch Pindus poem poet poetry proud rock RODEN NOEL Rome ruin scene Shelley shore shrine sigh smile song soul Spain spirit stanza star sweet tears temple Tennyson thee thine things thou thought throne tomb Venice walls waves wild wind Wordsworth wrote youth
Pasajes populares
Página 267 - Out from the heart of nature rolled The burdens of the Bible old; The litanies of nations came, Like the volcano's tongue of flame, Up from the burning core below, — The canticles of love and woe...
Página vi - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar - for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard! - May none those marks efface! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
Página 177 - Dark-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.
Página 83 - And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips - 'The foe! they come! they come!' And wild and high the 'Cameron's gathering
Página 176 - The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake And monarchs tremble in their capitals, The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee and arbiter of war, — These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride or spoils of Trafalgar.
Página 163 - He heard it, but he heeded not, — his eyes 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!
Página 116 - I STOOD in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, A palace and a prison on each hand ; I saw from out the wave her structures rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand...
Página 82 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet But hark!
Página 187 - O'er other creatures : yet when I approach Her loveliness, so absolute she seems, And in herself complete, so well to know Her own, that what she wills to do or say Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best...
Página 269 - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan which moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.