The Works of the Right Honourable Lord Byron: Childe HaroldJohn Murray, 1817 |
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... earth without his wing , And guileless beyond Hope's imagining ! And surely she who now so fondly rears Thy youth , in thee , thus hourly brightening , Beholds the rainbow of her future years , Before whose heavenly hues all sorrow ...
... earth without his wing , And guileless beyond Hope's imagining ! And surely she who now so fondly rears Thy youth , in thee , thus hourly brightening , Beholds the rainbow of her future years , Before whose heavenly hues all sorrow ...
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... earth , Mine dares not call thee from thy sacred hill : Yet there I've wandered by thy vaunted rill ; Yes ! sighed o'er Delphi's long - deserted shrine , ' Where , save that feeble fountain , all is still ; Nor mote my shell awake the ...
... earth , Mine dares not call thee from thy sacred hill : Yet there I've wandered by thy vaunted rill ; Yes ! sighed o'er Delphi's long - deserted shrine , ' Where , save that feeble fountain , all is still ; Nor mote my shell awake the ...
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... every costly wine , And all that mote to luxury invite , Without a sigh he left , to cross the brine , And traverse Paynim shores , and pass Earth's central line . XII . The sails were filled , and fair the 12 Canto I. CHILDE HAROLD'S.
... every costly wine , And all that mote to luxury invite , Without a sigh he left , to cross the brine , And traverse Paynim shores , and pass Earth's central line . XII . The sails were filled , and fair the 12 Canto I. CHILDE HAROLD'S.
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... hail the main and skies , But not my mother Earth . Deserted is my own good hall , Its hearth is desolate ; Wild weeds are gathering on the wall ; My dog howls at the gate . 3 . " Come hither , hither , my little 14 Canto I. CHILDE ...
... hail the main and skies , But not my mother Earth . Deserted is my own good hall , Its hearth is desolate ; Wild weeds are gathering on the wall ; My dog howls at the gate . 3 . " Come hither , hither , my little 14 Canto I. CHILDE ...
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... transgress his high com- mand , With treble vengeance will his hot shafts urge Gaul's locust host , and earth from fellest foemen purge . XVI . What beauties doth Lisboa first unfold ! Her C 2 Canto I. 19 PILGRIMAGE .
... transgress his high com- mand , With treble vengeance will his hot shafts urge Gaul's locust host , and earth from fellest foemen purge . XVI . What beauties doth Lisboa first unfold ! Her C 2 Canto I. 19 PILGRIMAGE .
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68 ページ - Look on its broken arch, its ruin'd wall, Its chambers desolate, and portals foul : Yes, this was once Ambition's airy hall, The dome of Thought, the palace of the Soul: Behold through each lack-lustre, eyeless hole, The gay recess of Wisdom and of Wit And Passion's host, that never brook'd control : Can all saint, sage, or sophist ever writ, People this lonely tower, this tenement refit ? VII. Well didst thou speak, Athena's wisest son ! "All that we know is, nothing can be known.
128 ページ - Insatiate archer ! could not one suffice ? Thy shaft flew thrice ; and thrice my peace was slain ; And thrice, ere thrice yon moon had fill'd her horn.
32 ページ - By Heaven ! it is a splendid sight to see (For one who hath no friend, no brother there) Their rival scarfs of mix'd embroidery, Their various arms that glitter in the air ! What gallant war-hounds rouse them from their lair, And gnash their fangs, loud yelling for the prey ! All join the chase, but few the triumph share ; The Grave shall bear the chiefest prize away, And Havoc scarce for joy can number their array.
127 ページ - Eximia veste et victu convivia, ludi, pocula crebra, unguenta coronae serta parantur, nequiquam, quoniam medio de fonte leporum surgit amari aliquid quod in ipsis floribus angat...
130 ページ - Man, proud man, Drest in a little brief authority, Plays such fantastic tricks before high Heaven As make the angels weep.
105 ページ - Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth! Immortal, though no more; though fallen, great! Who now shall lead thy scattered children forth, And long accustomed bondage uncreate?
31 ページ - Lo! where the Giant on the mountain stands, His blood-red tresses deep'ning in the sun, With death-shot glowing in his fiery hands, And eye that scorcheth all it glares upon; Restless it rolls, now fix'd, and now anon Flashing afar, - and at his iron feet Destruction cowers, to mark what deeds are done; For on this morn three potent nations meet, To shed before his shrine the blood he deems most sweet.
89 ページ - Where'er we gaze, around, above, below, What rainbow tints, what magic charms are found! Rock, river, forest, mountain all abound, And bluest skies that harmonize the whole : Beneath, the distant torrent's rushing sound Tells where the volumed cataract doth roll Between those hanging rocks, that shock yet please the soul.
139 ページ - The Arnaouts, or Albanese, struck me forcibly by their resemblance to the Highlanders of Scotland, in dress, figure, and manner of living. Their very mountains seemed Caledonian, with a kinder climate. The kilt, though white ; the spare, active form ; their dialect, Celtic in its sound, and their hardy habits, all carried me back to Mprven.
23 ページ - Beneath yon mountain's ever beauteous brow : But now, as if a thing unblest by Man, Thy fairy dwelling is as lone as thou ! Here giant weeds a passage scarce allow To halls deserted, portals gaping wide : Fresh lessons to the thinking bosom, how Vain are the pleasaunces on earth supplied ; Swept into wrecks anon by Time's ungentle tide ! XXIV.