Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A RomauntG.S. Appleton, 1851 - 287 ページ |
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... hath there been matchless deem'd ; Not in those visions to the heart displaying Forms which it sighs but to have only dream'd , Hath aught like thee in truth or fancy seem'd . Nor , having seen thee , shall I vainly seek To paint those ...
... hath there been matchless deem'd ; Not in those visions to the heart displaying Forms which it sighs but to have only dream'd , Hath aught like thee in truth or fancy seem'd . Nor , having seen thee , shall I vainly seek To paint those ...
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... hath done for this delicious land ! What fruits of fragrance blush on every tree ! What goodly prospects o'er the hills expand ! But man would mar them with an impious hand : And when the Almighty lifts his fiercest scourge ' Gainst ...
... hath done for this delicious land ! What fruits of fragrance blush on every tree ! What goodly prospects o'er the hills expand ! But man would mar them with an impious hand : And when the Almighty lifts his fiercest scourge ' Gainst ...
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... hath Pour'd forth his blood beneath the assassin's knife , Some hand erects a cross of mouldering lath ; And grove and glen with thousand such are rife Throughout this purple land , where law secures not life . XXII . On sloping mounds ...
... hath Pour'd forth his blood beneath the assassin's knife , Some hand erects a cross of mouldering lath ; And grove and glen with thousand such are rife Throughout this purple land , where law secures not life . XXII . On sloping mounds ...
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... hath built A dome , where flaunts she in such glorious sheen , That men forget the blood which she hath spilt , And bow the knee to Pomp that loves to varnish guilt . XXX . O'er vales that teem with fruits , romantic hills , ( Oh , that ...
... hath built A dome , where flaunts she in such glorious sheen , That men forget the blood which she hath spilt , And bow the knee to Pomp that loves to varnish guilt . XXX . O'er vales that teem with fruits , romantic hills , ( Oh , that ...
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... 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 ...
... 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 ...
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Albania Ali Pacha amidst amongst ancient Ariosto Arqua Athens beauty behold beneath blood Boccaccio bosom breast breath brow Cæsar CANTO Childe Harold CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE Chioza church Cicero Comitium dark death deem'd deep doth dust dwell earth edit Egeria fair fall fame fate feel Ficus Ruminalis gaze glory gondoliers Greece Greek hand hath heart Heaven hills honour hope hour immortal Italian Italy Julius Cæsar lake land less light live Lord mind mortal mountains Nardini ne'er never o'er once pass pass'd passion Petrarch plain poet Pouqueville rock Roman Rome ruin scatter'd scene seems seen shore sigh smile song soul spirit spot STANZA Storia stream Suetonius Tasso tears temple thee thine things thou thought throne tomb triumph Turks tyrants valley Venetians Venice walls waves winds woes wolf words youth καὶ
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121 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 ! How the lit lake shines a phosphoric sea, And the big rain comes dancing to the earth ! And now again 'tis black, — and now the glee Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain-mirth, As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth.
120 ページ - All heaven and earth are still— though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most; And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep...
119 ページ - Ye stars ! which are the poetry of heaven ! If in your bright leaves we would read the fate Of men and empires, — 'tis to be forgiven, That in our aspirations to be great, Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, And claim a kindred with you ; for ye are A beauty and a mystery, and create In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star.
198 ページ - Ye Elements ! — in whose ennobling stir I feel myself exalted — Can ye not Accord me such a being? Do I err In deeming such inhabit many a spot ? Though with them to converse can rarely be our lot.
122 ページ - Could I embody and unbosom now That which is most within me, — could I wreak My thoughts upon expression, and thus throw Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings, strong or weak, All that I would have sought, and all I seek, Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe— into one word, And that one word were Lightning, I would speak ; But as it is, I live and die unheard, With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword.
91 ページ - Welcome to their roar! Swift be their guidance, wheresoe'er it lead !' Though the strain'd mast should quiver as a reed, And the rent canvas fluttering strew the gale, Still must I on : for I am as a weed, Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail.
100 ページ - 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! The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent The earth is covered thick with other clay, Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, Rider and horse, — friend, foe, — in one red burial blent!
179 ページ - Of its own beauty is the mind diseased, And fevers into false creation : — where, Where are the forms the sculptor's soul hath seized ? In him alone. Can Nature show so fair...
162 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, LXX.
184 ページ - But I have lived, and have not lived in vain ; My mind may lose its force, my blood its fire; And my frame perish even in conquering pain, But there is that within me which shall tire Torture and Time, and breathe when I expire...