Lord Byron's Works ...F. Louis, 1821 |
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Página 73
... art thou ! Thy vales of ever - green , thy hills of snow Proclaim thee Nature's varied favourite now : Thy fanes , thy temples to thy surface bow , Commingling slowly with heroic earth , Broke by the share of every rustic plough : So ...
... art thou ! Thy vales of ever - green , thy hills of snow Proclaim thee Nature's varied favourite now : Thy fanes , thy temples to thy surface bow , Commingling slowly with heroic earth , Broke by the share of every rustic plough : So ...
Página 76
... thou prosper where thy youth was reared , By every honest joy of love and life endeared ! XCIV . For thee , who thus in too protracted song Hast soothed thine idlesse ... Thou too art gone , thou loved and 76 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE .
... thou prosper where thy youth was reared , By every honest joy of love and life endeared ! XCIV . For thee , who thus in too protracted song Hast soothed thine idlesse ... Thou too art gone , thou loved and 76 CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE .
Página 77
George Gordon Byron Baron Byron. XCV . Thou too art gone , thou loved and lovely one ! Whom youth and youth's affection bound to me ; Who did for me what none beside have done , Nor shrank from one albeit unworthy thee . What is my being ?
George Gordon Byron Baron Byron. XCV . Thou too art gone , thou loved and lovely one ! Whom youth and youth's affection bound to me ; Who did for me what none beside have done , Nor shrank from one albeit unworthy thee . What is my being ?
Página 81
... art thou , Soul of my thought ! with whom I traverse earth , Invisible but gazing , as I głow Mix'd with thy spirit , blended with thy birth , And feeling still with thee in my crush'd feelings ' dearth . VII . Yet must I think less ...
... art thou , Soul of my thought ! with whom I traverse earth , Invisible but gazing , as I głow Mix'd with thy spirit , blended with thy birth , And feeling still with thee in my crush'd feelings ' dearth . VII . Yet must I think less ...
Página 91
... art thou ! She trembles at thee still , and thy wild name Was ne'er more bruited in men's minds than now That thou art nothing , save the jest of Fame , Who wooed thee once , thy vassal , and became The flatterer of thy fierceness , till ...
... art thou ! She trembles at thee still , and thy wild name Was ne'er more bruited in men's minds than now That thou art nothing , save the jest of Fame , Who wooed thee once , thy vassal , and became The flatterer of thy fierceness , till ...
Términos y frases comunes
ABBOT OF SAINT Albania Alhama art thou ASTARTE beauty behold beneath blood Bonnivard bosom breast breath brow Cavalier Servente CHAMOIS HUNTER charm Childe Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE clouds cold courser dare dark dead death deemed deep dost doth dread dream dust dwell earth eyes fair fame fear feel gaze Giaour glory glow grave Greece hand hast hath heart heaven hope hour hues Idlesse immortal land light limbs live lone look MANFRED Mazeppa mighty mind mingling mortal mountains ne'er never night nought o'er once pang pass Pindus rock round SAINT MAURICE scarce scene shine shore SIEGE OF CORINTH sigh silent skies smile song soul spirit star steed stood sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought thousand throne tomb twas Venice voice walls wandering waves wild wind youth
Pasajes populares
Página 179 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more...
Página 225 - Like the 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 withered and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed...
Página 218 - Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain.
Página 120 - 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 : A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the winged Lion's marble piles, Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles...
Página 167 - 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 181 - Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 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...
Página 88 - 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!
Página 105 - When elements to elements conform. And dust is as it should be, shall I not Feel all I see, less dazzling, but more warm ? The bodiless thought?
Página 128 - Thou art the garden of the world, the home Of all Art yields, and Nature can decree ; Even in thy desert, what is like to thee ? Thy very weeds are beautiful, thy waste More rich than other climes' fertility ; Thy wreck a glory, and thy ruin graced With an immaculate charm which cannot be defaced.
Página 99 - twere anew, the gaps of centuries ; Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not, till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old, — The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns.