Childe Harold's pilgrimage, with a memoir by W. Spalding |
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... deeds , or consecrate a crime . IV . Childe Harold bask'd him in the noontide sun , Disporting there like any other fly , Nor deem'd before his little day was done One blast might chill him into misery . But long ere scarce a third of ...
... deeds , or consecrate a crime . IV . Childe Harold bask'd him in the noontide sun , Disporting there like any other fly , Nor deem'd before his little day was done One blast might chill him into misery . But long ere scarce a third of ...
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... ! England's wealthiest son , Once form'd thy Paradise , as not aware When wanton Wealth her mightiest deeds hath done , Meek Peace voluptuous lures was ever wont to shun . G. Barret . XXIII . Here didst thou dwell , Childe Harold . 27.
... ! England's wealthiest son , Once form'd thy Paradise , as not aware When wanton Wealth her mightiest deeds hath done , Meek Peace voluptuous lures was ever wont to shun . G. Barret . XXIII . Here didst thou dwell , Childe Harold . 27.
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... deed proclaim ! Will not our own and fellow - nations sneer , To view these champions cheated of their fame , ' By foes in fight o'erthrown , yet victors here , Where scorn her finger points through many a coming year ? XXVII . So deem ...
... deed proclaim ! Will not our own and fellow - nations sneer , To view these champions cheated of their fame , ' By foes in fight o'erthrown , yet victors here , Where scorn her finger points through many a coming year ? XXVII . So deem ...
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... deeds are done ; For on this morn three potent nations meet , To shed before his shrine the blood he deems most sweet . XL . By Heaven ! it is a splendid sight to see ( For one who hath no friend , no brother there ) Their rival scarfs ...
... deeds are done ; For on this morn three potent nations meet , To shed before his shrine the blood he deems most sweet . XL . By Heaven ! it is a splendid sight to see ( For one who hath no friend , no brother there ) Their rival scarfs ...
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... deeds to come : -but he whose nod Has tumbled feebler despots from their sway , A moment pauseth ere he lifts the rod ; A little moment deigneth to delay : Soon will his legions sweep through these their way ; 36 Childe Harold .
... deeds to come : -but he whose nod Has tumbled feebler despots from their sway , A moment pauseth ere he lifts the rod ; A little moment deigneth to delay : Soon will his legions sweep through these their way ; 36 Childe Harold .
多く使われている語句
Albania amidst aught bards beauty behold beneath bleed blood bosom breast breath Brentford brow Byron Cadiz canto charm Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE Chivalry clime dare dark dear deeds deem deem'd deep desolate didst dome dost doth dread dream dust dwell earth fair fair Mount fame fate feel fix'd foes gainst Gaul gaze Giaour glorious Glory glow Greece hand hath heart Heaven hope hour hyæna Idlesse immortal Italy land Latian light lone lord Lord Byron maids mighty mind mortal mountains Nature's ne'er night o'er o'er thy once pass'd passion perchance Pindus poison'd proud Rhine rise rock Rome round scarce scatter'd scene shore shrine sigh skies smile soft song sooth sought soul Spain spirit star steed stern stream sweet tear thee thine things thou thought throne tomb tyrants Venice walls waves ween wild wind woes young youth
人気のある引用
166 ページ - 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.
99 ページ - And this is in the night: — Most glorious night! Thou wert not sent for slumber! let me be A sharer in thy fierce and far delight, — A portion of the tempest and of thee!
93 ページ - I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me; and to me, High mountains are a feeling, but the hum Of human cities torture...
145 ページ - There is the moral of all human tales ; 'Tis but the same rehearsal of the past, First Freedom, and then Glory — when that fails, Wealth, vice, corruption, — barbarism at last. And History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page...
159 ページ - Enter: its grandeur overwhelms thee not; And why? It is not lessen'd; but thy mind, Expanded by the genius of the spot, Has grown colossal, and can only find A fit abode wherein appear enshrined Thy hopes of immortality; and thou Shalt one day, if found worthy, so defined, See thy God face to face, as thou dost now His Holy of Holies, nor be blasted by his brow.
78 ページ - But hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! arm! it is— it is— the cannon's opening roar! Within a windowed niche of that high hall Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear That sound, the first amidst the festival, And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear...
97 ページ - At intervals some bird from out the brakes Starts into voice a moment, then is still. There seems a floating whisper on the hill ; But that is fancy, for the starlight dews All silently their tears of love instil, Weeping themselves away, till they infuse Deep into nature's breast the spirit of her hues.
134 ページ - The roar of waters ! — from the headlong height Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice The fall of waters ! rapid as the light The flashing mass foams shaking the abyss ; The hell of waters ! where they howl and hiss. And boil in endless torture ; while the sweat Of their great agony, wrung out from this Their Phlegethon, curls round the rocks of jet That gird the gulf around, in pitiless horror set...
100 ページ - Sky, mountains, river, winds, lake, lightnings ! ye ! With night, and clouds, and thunder, and a soul To make these felt and feeling, well may be Things that have made me watchful; the far roll Of your departing voices, is the knoll Of what in me is sleepless, — if I rest. But where of ye, oh tempests ! is the goal ? Are ye like those within the human breast ? Or do ye find, at length, like eagles, some high nest ? XCVII.
155 ページ - 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 — All this rushed with his blood — Shall he expire And unavenged ? — Arise ! ye Goths, and glut your ire ! CXLII.