The Works of the Right Honourable Lord Byron: Childe HaroldJohn Murray, 1817 |
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30 ページ
... heard on Andalusia's shore ? XXXVIII . Hark ! heard you not those hoofs of 30 Canto 1 . CHILDE HAROLD'S.
... heard on Andalusia's shore ? XXXVIII . Hark ! heard you not those hoofs of 30 Canto 1 . CHILDE HAROLD'S.
31 ページ
George Gordon Byron Baron Byron. XXXVIII . Hark ! heard you not those hoofs of dreadful note ? Sounds not the clang of conflict on the heath ? Saw ye not whom the reeking sabre smote ; Nor saved your brethren ere they sank beneath ...
George Gordon Byron Baron Byron. XXXVIII . Hark ! heard you not those hoofs of dreadful note ? Sounds not the clang of conflict on the heath ? Saw ye not whom the reeking sabre smote ; Nor saved your brethren ere they sank beneath ...
39 ページ
... Heard her light , lively tones in Lady's bower , Seen her long locks that foil the painter's power , Her fairy form , with more than female grace , Scarce would you deem that Saragoza's tower Beheld her smile in Danger's Gorgon face ...
... Heard her light , lively tones in Lady's bower , Seen her long locks that foil the painter's power , Her fairy form , with more than female grace , Scarce would you deem that Saragoza's tower Beheld her smile in Danger's Gorgon face ...
45 ページ
... heard , the rosy garland worn , Devices quaint , and frolics ever new , Tread on each others kibes . A long adieu He bids to sober joy that here sojourns : Nought interrupts the riot , though in lieu Of true devotion monkish incense ...
... heard , the rosy garland worn , Devices quaint , and frolics ever new , Tread on each others kibes . A long adieu He bids to sober joy that here sojourns : Nought interrupts the riot , though in lieu Of true devotion monkish incense ...
46 ページ
... 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 more ; Yells the mad crowd o'er entrails freshly ...
... 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 more ; Yells the mad crowd o'er entrails freshly ...
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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.